Life Goes On
by Shiluette
Summary: Life doesn't change even if everyone gets older and faces reality. They still have the memories of tennis, and long-lost dreams. Future canon containing Royal Pair One Shots.
1. 1: Hollow Victory

Hollow Victory

" Monkey King, everybody's watching," Ryoma said half-heartedly, rolling his eyes and trying to squirm away from the older boy. The eyes he was receiving when Atobe nearly toppled him to make him sit on the Hyotei dive's lap was to say, amusing, but he wasn't a fan of receiving attention when it wasn't needed, and right now it was just plain stupid.

The chanting of Hyotei had stopped, along with the cheers of Rikkai, and the court was quiet, except for the referee announcing the winner and the Nationals champion. Ryoma wasn't paying particular attention to it, mainly because he already knew the results , having seen the matches himself. His own team was standing right outside the sidelines, waiting for their captain to give them the signal of dismissal.

"I don't care, " came the muffled reply from his shoulders, warm breath ghosting along his skin. Atobe held him tighter. " You belong to me anyway."

Ryoma just shook his head and gave his team a jerk of his hand. His team nodded, still unsure of what to make of their captain sitting on Atobe Keigo's lap, but they trusted their captain's intentions and quietly disappeared out of sight.

The Hyotei fangirls were whispering among themselves, eyes darting to Ryoma and Atobe, giving Ryoma a fiercer glare by the second. Ryoma sighed, adjusting his glasses upwards as he muttered, "You're creating a scene. "

Ignoring Atobe's muffled laughter, he saw Yukimura leaning to Sanada for support and Sanada shouting at the high school freshmen to put ice on their vice captain. Ryoma smirked and reached up to stroke Atobe's hair― damp and sweaty but it still was the perfect conditioned Atobe hair― and gave the fangirls a cool glare; one that he had been practicing to control Horio better during practice. He could see Oshitari shaking his head and smiling himself as he surveyed the Rikkai stands.

"Hyotei won."

The winner would be Hyotei.

Ryoma laughed a little, not because it was funny but because he felt it was his role to act as if nothing was wrong. " You sound as if you don't believe it."

Oshitari just shook his head, fingers clutching the warm water bottle he had no intention of drinking. " Atobe is going to be captain next year."

A fact that they all knew, yet it somehow had to be said.

Atobe raised his head up to rest his chin on Ryoma's shoulders as he glared at Oshitari. " You're off the team when I'm made captain."

Oshitari chuckled, and Ryoma thought it was justified to elbow Atobe in the ribs as he said, "No you won't. You're going to need all the help you can get next year." Next year, we'll be facing each other again.

"So confident of yourself. " Atobe still didn't let go of him and he was beginning to get comfortable as he leaned back and smirked.

"Won the Nationals didn't I? I made a good captain."

"Yes, Tezuka should be proud. His little pillar, holding the Junior High Nationals title for three years running." Ryoma laughed again, and he was sure Atobe cracked a small smile in return, because they both knew Atobe expected nothing less of Ryoma.

"...It was a good game."

Atobe doesn't reply for a long time, his breathing coming out unevenly, his muscles tense, and Ryoma waited, letting his own hand rest on top of Atobe's, letting Atobe realize he won, he won, he won.

"Ahn."

It was a quiet acknowledgement, but it was enough to confirm Atobe was all right.

"Next year won't be as easy. Gloat while you can, monkey king."

Atobe huffed a little but he still held Ryoma's hand tightly, a rare gesture showing his appreciation and the acceptance of his challenge. "Brat."

Ryoma closed his eyes and let the smile linger for a little while longer, his breathing matching Atobe's thinking next year, next year, it would start all over again, him, the arrogant freshman who never lost a match and Atobe the Hyotei captain who had the power to control the two hundred members of his tennis team.

He was looking forward to it.


	2. 2 : Headaches

I disclaim everything, except for the few characters I created for my own perverse pleasure. :D

(Although I am trying to kidnap Ryoma...but it's not working, sadly)

Notes on said story:

I don't intend to pull this into a whole story, just little snippets of what might happen after everything. If Ryoma was in college, if Atobe inherited his wealth, if Tezuka became pro... there's a lot of possibilities and most of them end in angst but the thing is, they all still stand up and move on. :D That's what I'm trying to write and what I'm trying to...express and I try to put them all in character.

On character: Kento Yuuya is one of my original characters, and one of my favorites. :D

He's a second year when Ryoma is in third, and he looks up to Ryoma a lot, maybe like Ryoma did with Tezuka, except Yuuya is more cheerful and bratty. Ryoma can't do doubles for life but he can make an exception with Yuuya( that story would soon come up soon as to why :D)—which very much pisses Atobe off (cause in Hyotei, strangely enough, their doubles partners are a match made in heaven :D Look at the Silver Pair lol)

Yuuya is going to be a regular occurrence, so don't hate him too much, ne?

On Updates: Updates shouldn't be a worry for a while, since I have about two notebooks of these scribbles before I decided to post them :)

Headache

Ryoma sighed and rubbed his temples as Horio boasted loudly to the freshmen standing near him on how he became a regular. It wouldn't have bothered Ryoma that much, since Horio had improved compared to the loud-mouthed freshman he was two years ago but he still was mada mada dane and he was nothing, nothing compared to other tennis players that he challenged himself. It wasn't helping that he had a terrible headache from the stupid cold he had, probably caught because his stupid father forgot to close the stupid windows at night, since it was summer.

No matter. Someone was still going to pay dearly if someone doesn't shut up soon.

Luckily, his vice-captain seemed to comprehend Ryoma's bad mood, because he shouted, "Horio! Get in Court C and stop talking!" after he gave a worried glance at Ryoma. Ryoma shook his head, indicating that he was all right, instead jerking his finger irritatedly towards the squealing fangirls that were crowding around the fence to see a glimpse of Ryoma , with that Tomoka girl in the lead.

Kachiro gave a small smile in return and shrugged―there was nothing he could do about that, and Ryoma sighed again, this time choosing to enter the courts himself, because really, the regulars' playstyles were becoming pathetic and they still had the semi-semi-finals to win.

Almost at once, the regulars got rigid when Ryoma entered the court, perhaps, like Kachiro, knowing their captain was in a foul mood. Only his no-so-quite-doubles partner and his so-called favorite koukai, Yuuya smiled at him when he addressed his orders to line up to hit some balls. Horio, as usual, did fine , but his loud explanations were not improving his worsening headache.

He narrowed his eyes at Horio before nodding slightly to Yuuya to warm-up for the doubles training, and Yuuya beamed in reply, grabbing his towel and following Ryoma's pace. Yuuya had great admiration for his captain , Ryoma knew, almost like he had with Tezuka , and although Ryoma usually hated attention others were giving him , he could admit liking this cheerful second year― or at least admit that Yuuya was the only person he would play doubles willingly with.

He groaned a little as he headed towards the fountain to wash up―Yuuya was right next to him and he shot a worried glance at Ryoma while he was splashing water on his face. " Echizen-buchou, are you all right?," Yuuya ventured out cautiously, because he too, knew how Ryoma could get downright nasty at times when he was irritated. That didn't happen often, but when it did, it was something that should be avoided as quickly as possible.

Ryoma just shook his head again, like he did with Kachiro, only that he knew Yuuya would see through it but would wisely refrain from commenting. Instead he just gave one of his rare flicker of smiles at Yuuya and nodded to one of the empty courts. Yuuya smiled and nodded again, handing Ryoma a spare towel he grabbed along with his own.

" Oi, isn't that a Hyotei uniform?"

"...Isn't that a high school uniform?"

"...Isn't that ATOBE-SAN?!"

Oh, hell.

Ryoma scowled deeply again, more irritated by the fact Horio had to scream loud enough for every person on the tennis courts to hear.

"Who is Atobe-san, Horio-senpai?"

One of Horio's not-so-quite-admirer-koukais. Thirty laps.

"He's..he's..ahem, he's one of the best tennis players apart from our former captain―he's the one who's going to be the Hyotei captain next year when we third year would go into high school! He's a high ranked player, strong enough to defeat Tezuka―"

Make that fifty.

Ryoma threw the towel to Yuuya , who just caught it wordlessly and eyeing Horio warily while Horio ranted on and on about how much he knew about Atobe, and Atobe was leaning against the fence, looking amused as the fangirls looked at him with glazed eyes (except for Tomoka, who never liked Atobe and Sakuno, who never was good with boys ). Ryoma seethed and marched over to where Horio was standing.

"Horio."

Almost immediately all the freshmen scattered around the previous courts they were in and Horio frowned at Ryoma and crossed his arms. " I was just getting to the good part―"

"Seventy laps."

The club members gasped. Even Atobe raised an eyebrow. Ryoma ignored him, since he couldn't give him any laps, although he was tempted to.

"You can't be serious! Not in this heat―"Horio soon fell silent when Ryoma glared at him. Even Horio knew when Ryoma was giving his glare that meant trouble and he wisely took off to start running. Kachiro sighed and muttered " I knew it." before ordering the freshmen to resume practice.

Ryoma whirled around to where Yuuya was standing, who was looking as if he was trying not to laugh ( although what was funny, Ryoma didn't know) when Atobe drawled out ," Really Echizen, don't you think that's a bit harsh? After all, your teammate merely wanted to inform your koukais of the danger that's in store for them in Hyotei."

" Yes I'm sure, " Ryoma muttered, raking his fingers over his hair. " Don't high school tennis teams have better things to do then lurk around in junior high courts?" Then , before Atobe could answer, Ryoma commanded in a louder voice, " Yuuya! Court A―we're going to practice the new doubles formation that I spoke to you yesterday!"

Yuuya nodded and headed off to the empty court. Ryoma followed suit, cursing the goddamn headache that was threatening to make him scream or faint or do something very un-Echizen like. Atobe just glared at his way, but he was sure the glare was directed at Yuuya― Atobe never really liked the bouncy regular who was always with him. Ryoma rolled his eyes as he gestured to Kachiro to take position. Kachiro gave a thumbs up and followed with his golden pair in tow. Katsou looked warily at Ryoma before sneaking a glance at Atobe, who was still glaring at Yuuya.

" Ryoma-kun, shouldn't you tell Atobe-san to...er...wait for a bit longer since there's an hour more of practice ?," he said cautiously, gripping his racket tightly to aim the serve Ryoma would soon throw in his way.

"No, " Ryoma said shortly; he gripped the tennis ball tighter and willed the ache to stop throbbing his head so damn painfully. " Yuuya, position."

"Yes, Ryoma-senpai." Yuuya gave him a mock salute, completely unaware of Atobe's death glare heading towards him. Ryoma had to crack a smile at that and shook his head, before throwing the ball high in the air and--served.

As Kachiro dived to hit the ball Yuuya went quickly forward and moved up to the front of the net. Kachiro returned the ball hard, but Yuuya retrieved it, using his volley skills while Ryoma backed up for―

"Echizen , watch out!!"

Horio again. Wasn't he suppose to run laps right now?

WHAM.

Something hit Ryoma on the back of his head, hard, and Ryoma went sprawling forward, his head in a triple pain then it was before. A tennis ball rolled innocently in front of him, the object of his attack.

Just kill me now.

"Ah..haha...Echizen..." Horio looked afraid as he edged nearer to the outer side of the fence he was currently playing, while Yuuya ran up to Ryoma looking worried.

"Senpai! Are you all right?!" He reached out to touch Ryoma's head, but Ryoma saw it being slapped away as a cool voice retorted, " I think I can take care of that. "

Yuuya looked confused, thinking what he did wrong, as he stammered, "Ah..of course." and went to pick up Ryoma's racket instead, which had flown out of his hands when the ball hit him.

Ryoma could feel Atobe's hand gently caressing his head for any bumps, and Ryoma had to let out a groan at that, because of his stupid, stupid headache. Atobe peered into Ryoma's eyes. "Echizen?"

"'M Fine." Ryoma mimicked Atobe's earlier gesture, slapping the hand away as Horio himself entered the court looking as if he was about to walk into his grave ( someone must have informed him about Ryoma's bad mood). "Well, you see , Echizen―"

Ryoma sighed and stood up, accepting his racket from Yuuya and rubbing his temples. " I thought I told you to run laps. "

" A freshman wanted to see how I served!" Horio protested loudly; Ryoma winced.

" And I was going to run laps after but--"

" RYOMA-SAMA! Are you all right?!" The throbbing turned into pounding. Ryoma balled up his fists. Yuuya edged away from him slowly, having once seen this side of Ryoma when he was visiting his house. Atobe just looked annoyed ( because Ryoma slapped away his hand) but Ryoma paid no heed as he tried to breathe in, breathe out.

Luckily, it was Kachiro who knew Ryoma was just at the edge of his patience and yelled, " Horio! If you keep that up, I'm going to dismiss you from the Rikkai line-ups tomorrow!"

Horio turned around to protest, but Ryoma cut in, gritting his teeth, " If you still keep it up, I'm disqualifying you from the Regulars. Now, Go. Do. Your. Laps."

The glare Ryoma was emitting could kill, and Horio yelped , " Yes, captain!" before running off for his safety.

Kachiro looked at him hesitantly before saying what he wanted to say since the beginning of practice, " Ryoma-kun, you should go home early. You look very...sick. I'll take care of the team, you just…rest, ne?"

"Yes Echizen, let's go, " Atobe crossed his arms as he secured a grip on Ryoma's wrist. Ryoma scowled but Atobe wouldn't let go. Jealous bastard. "Che. Fine." Ryoma muttered, pleased that he wouldn't have to face Horio craziness till tomorrow. Hopefully by then he would have recovered enough to resume his stoic face.

He turned to Yuuya. " Doubles one. Be sure to practice."

Yuuya cocked his head to one side and smiled cheekily in reply. Atobe's grip became tighter and he huffed a little as he guided Ryoma out of the courts. " I still don't like your doubles partner, " he muttered so that only Ryoma could hear. Ryoma shrugged and tried to free himself but Atobe held on tightly, steering him into the waiting limo. " He's an okay kid. " The dull ache begin to fade just a little bit as he eased his way into the air-conditioned limo, sighing as he sank into the leather seat.

Atobe glared at Ryoma this time but he still leaned into him for a hard kiss, closing the car door behind him as the car drove off. Ryoma rolled his eyes as he obliged, threading his hands into Atobe's hair, feeling the soft locks Atobe kept so hard to groom. The cool air that surrounded him cleared his head a little, and Atobe's tongue darting in his mouth was proving to be helpful since all he needed to concentrate on was trying to shove his own tongue in Atobe's mouth.

Ryoma gasped a little when they fell apart, still fisting Atobe's hair while Atobe smirked ( traces of his earlier annoyance all gone) and left soft kisses on his throat.

"Hm. " Ryoma lets Atobe do it this time, since he was too lazy to be bothered right now, instead leaning onto Atobe for a substitute pillow.

"You smell." Atobe murmured in his ear, but he sounds amused as he allows Ryoma to rest his head on his lap and opts to brushing his black locks out of his face.

" Of course I do, " Ryoma muttered back, closing his eyes, " You just barge in when I'm having practice while trying to control some hyper teammates when I should be in my bed with some hot soup."

"You have a fever, true. " Atobe's hand is cool when he splays it on Ryoma's forehead, and Ryoma lets him do it, since nobody is watching. " Would you like me to drop you off?"

"Urgh. No." Ryoma scowled slightly when Atobe moved his hand to caress his check but didn't comment on it. "My old man broke down the air conditioner yesterday."

" Shame. And you are going to abuse my facilities because of that."

"Yes."

Atobe sighed; the kind of sigh that indicated Atobe watched too many damn dramas. " I suppose it wouldn't be a bother." He agreed insufferably, but Ryoma didn't hear him as he drifted off, thinking that he might have to persuade Atobe for a back massage later on—shame that Atobe didn't go professionally in that particular field.

I was going to add the part where Atobe actually does the back massage, but…well that turned into a N-17 the moment I tried to picture it. :D So yeah, it ends here.

…..I think I have this Ryoma-buchou fetish. Hmm.


	3. 3: Defeated

Defeated

Echizen looks expressionless today; as if he is devoid of any emotions creeping up to him. He doesn't rise to any challenges Atobe throws in his way―he just shrugs it off and looks out the window or out into the far sky.

Atobe doesn't want to admit it, but he's getting worried.

So he obliges when Echizen says they should play tennis, and notices that Echizen's play is fierce as if tennis was something that could be killed and destroyed.

The ball is heavy and sharp; it whizzes over the net and makes a hard thumping sound against the court and the ball sends Atobe's racket flying out of his hands.

Echizen does not gloat like Atobe expects him to but throws his own racket down hard across the court and marches up to Atobe.

" You're not playing, " Echizen all but hissed out, his golden eyes brighter than Atobe has ever seen him. Echizen's calloused fingers are gripping the net tightly, as if he needed to rip something apart. " You're not playing for what you're worth."

Atobe doesn't know how to respond to this so he just raised an eyebrow and watches while Echizen takes position. Then he throws the ball in the air and serves, harder than he was willing to and the ball was powerful as it soared to the other side of the net and they play until no stamina is left on both sides.

They haven't played like this in a long time, not since the match in junior high, and Atobe feels something firing up at him as he offered a hand to Echizen. Echizen, strangely enough, accepts it without a word.

Later, as Echizen leaned over Atobe ( a rare gesture, because Echizen never showed any kind of weakness) he whispered , " I beat the old man, " before he closed his eyes.

Atobe just puts his right hand over Echizen's left and thinks, you expected this to happen sometime, but he doesn't voice this out loud, just held Echizen's hand tighter as he nodded to his driver to go.

I'm deciding what theme to post up next since there's a lot of plots I wrote for this pairing :D Any suggestions?

Hmm...I think I reather like angsty Ryoma. He has the potenial to be slightly depressed.


	4. 4: Star gazing

Sorry for this late update!!!! My laptop was kind of going haywires.;;;

I'm afraid I can't update for the next ten days, since it happens that I'm going to Europe—but I'll post them as soon as I get back:D

Also, I would like to thank abhorsen3 for your three reviews—you really made me smile at your reflection on my drabbles. :D Good to know that I'm getting the whole point across to my readers!!

Well, the request I chose was: high school version. Believe it or not, 9 out of ten of my stories are all high school settings. What can I say? They're my perverse pleasure XD

Nothing belongs to me. :DDDDDDDDDD Shame , that. OTL

Stargazing

Atobe rolled his eyes at his team's obvious excitement at the words of 'stargazing'. Even Oshitari wasn't smirking his usual smirk in his highly superior way that endlessly annoyed Atobe –Momoshiro was practically jumping up and down. Atobe frowned and crossed his arms—just what was so great about going outdoors to see the stars?

"You look upset, Monkey King."

Echizen was standing next to him, holding two cups of steaming hot chocolate and smirking as if he knew exactly why Atobe was annoyed. And he was enjoying it too, the brat.

"Hm." Atobe took the offered cup without any thanks; Echizen simply rolled his eyes at the unspoken word. " I would rather be in my bed and sleeping," he said, narrowing his eyes at the idiot who started in the first place: Fuji Syusuke. Fuji met his eyes with a very bright smile that pissed him off even more. " We came up to the mountains to train, not to watch the stars twinkle in the bright sky and," Atobe added, looking at their cabin in longing, " Some of us need our beauty sleep, you know."

"It'll be fun," Echizen throws back, sipping his own drink and still smirking, " You can't see a lot of stars in Tokyo."

Atobe snorts." As if you ever cared for such romantic nonsense," he tells Echizen, appreciating the warmth the cocoa was emitting," You just like to watch me suffer." But he lifts his head up and has to admit, the twinkling lights were beautiful, in a strange romantic way , almost as if they would fall the earth at any second.

"Maybe." Atobe converts his gaze and sees Echizen looking up at the stars as well with a strange look Atobe never saw before. " But it has more to do with the fact that they're somehow always there. " Echizen closes his eyes. " They never change."

Atobe is thrown back at the sudden change in Echizen's voice and understands the reasoning for it a moment later. This was going to be the last Nationals he'll face with Echizen, and this would be the last year he would be the captain of Hyotei. Next year, he would be enrolling in college, whereas Echizen would be………………………….

"Neither would we," he says sharply, whirling Echizen around to face him. Echizen meets his eyes with surprise. " I didn't chase you down for four months to have a brief fling with you, "Atobe mutters, feeling downright embarrassed. Echizen's eyes flicker for a moment before the smirk reappears on his face. " I know."

Atobe feels relieved somewhat, thinking that this wasn't their last and leans down to give Echizen a short kiss. " Ahn."

" Oi, Atobe! Come over here and look at the stars, not at Echizen!"

Shishido's voice can be heard echoing around and Atobe glares at the said teammate before holding out his hand to Echizen. "Shall we?"

"Che." But Echizen takes Atobe's hand and they catch up to where everyone was tipping their heads to the night sky.

"We'll beat you in the Nationals," Echizen murmurs in his ear, as a shooting star whizzes past them. Atobe tightens his hold in reply as Gakuto leaped up and yelled; Seigaku can try, but the winner would be Hyotei.


	5. 5: Memory Loss

I'm back from Europe and back to writing, although I'm sure no one is waiting for me XD;;; (waves sheepishly)

I'm reading the manga chapters that came up this week and lol I can't believe I'm starting to hate our lovely Yukimura…er?

Darling, your tennis is just as violent as the rest of your team and you made Ryoma-kun cry DO YOU WANT TO FEEL ATOBE'S WARTH ON YOU:D

…And stop calling Ryoma "Boy this boy that." Kinda getting to me. --

No, I love Rikkai , I really do, they're just being assholes on this arc, that's all.

On with the drabbles! (spoilers on this one—where Ryoma lost his memories……for the shortest time -- he regained them in less than a day, I think (after Atobe appeared and played a match with him!! XD(….)

Memory Loss

When Echizen loses his memory during the Finals with Rikkai, Atobe is lost for words.

Echizen climbs into the helicopter hesitantly, assisted by a gaping Momoshiro, who can't believe this will be the boy who soon be playing against the Rikkai captain. There is no trace of the trademark smirk Echizen always sent his way; replacing that is a wide-eyed look that darts across the small confinement he is currently riding. Those gold eyes meet Atobe's, but before Atobe could say something—anything—Echizen's eyes shift down to the floor immediately and Atobe feels a lump coming up his throat.

He presses his lips tightly and curls his hands into fists as he quickly turns back to the front; he feels Oshitari's unwavering gaze following him and he doesn't want his tensai crap right now. So he hisses, "Stuff it," when Oshitari is about to open his mouth, probably to say some bullshit of how Echizen would be all right. For once Oshitari obeys, instead choosing to shift his observation to this new Echizen, the Echizen that Atobe had absolute no interest in knowing.

Because this was not Echizen, with his wide innocent features decorating his face, the stiff, awkward pose he was currently sitting right now, with all this hesitant attitude and uncertaincy.

Fuck.

Right now, it's not about the Nationals he care about of even Seigaku; he feels empty knowing that at this particular moment, he was the only one foolish enough to recount the match they played against each other, a promise that might never come true.

The whole Rikkai arc right now is angst to me right now boo-hoo. 


	6. 6: Doubles

You can't say that you've never ever imagined Atobe and Ryoma IN DOUBLES together

Especially after we've seen the Atobe and Sanada match up for doubles in the anime, most especially after darling, darling Inui said in OVA 12, "OMG they're becoming sncryo." during their famous laughing match. WHY ISN'T ANYONE WRITING ONE THEN?!

So I saved everyone the trouble and wrote a crappy version :D Enjoy!

abhorsen3, thank you for the grammar mistakes you pointed out and glad you're enjoying the fics XD (I'll modify them as soon as I have the chance!) I think I seem to love your reviews more then my own stories now!

Haninozuka Mitsukuni, They are annoying , yes, so maybe someone should write to me (a Rikkai fangirl , probably) just why they suddenly turned a bit bitchy? T-T ( We need more Rikkai fics to justify them!!)

Atobe and Ryoma at Doubles is just freaking awesome. I swear on my grave they will excel at it. They're too alike for their own good.

This is a training camp version in high school, although it might be like middle school in some ways. I didn't really hint in the story that they were older. A training camp where how in the world, Rikkai , Hyotei, and Seigaku get together to play lovely, random tennis matches. :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Doubles.

The first sentence uttered out of Ryoma's mouth when he saw the practice line-ups that would be held on Monday was, "I can't play doubles."

When Ryoma said something negative, it meant that he really was bad at it and can't do it for life, ever, not trying to be modest for the sake of it ( Because modesty was for losers, with the exception of his captain). He could hear Atobe next to him, uttering the same sentence word for word, at the exact second he started it, ending at the same period pause.

They both whirled around at the same time, spouting identical glares that promised insanity on either side.

Ryuuzaki-sensei rolled her eyes and refrained from saying that they were already doing a fine job of it.

-

"This is stupid," Ryoma grumbles as he adjusts his racket frame. He glares this cold glare Atobe is uncomfortable seeing at Yukimura and Sanada, as if it was their fault for making him play doubles. It's not, of course, but Ryoma hates Rikkai enough to pretend that it actually was.

"For once, I couldn't agree with you more." Atobe sends his own share of glaring directed mostly to Sanada, who looks back at him mockingly, knowing that he and Yukimura already won this match, hands down. Yukimura acknowledges them with his own cold smile, his eyes glinting that confident glint, already shouting out that they were the losers.

Ryoma grinds his teeth and his eyes narrow dangerously; there was no way he was going to be defeated by the more-arrogant-than-Monkey-King captain and be laughed at. He shoots a look at Atobe and sees Atobe's mouth set into a grim smirk. They both nod grudgingly; a truce would be made for the time being—they had a match to win first.

Atobe glares at the Rikkai pair one last time before turning and walking over to the end of the court while Ryoma takes his place in front of the base line. If things go impossibly wrong, he could always suggest splitting up the courts in half.

Sanada throws the ball, and serves.

-

Everyone's mouths are hanging open widely when the match ends an hour later, not even going into the tiebreak.

"You said you were bad at doubles." Atobe is equally as baffled as the rest but still manages to smirk as he walks up to Ryoma, currently frozen to the ground.

"He is!" Momo shouted from across the sidelines, but he was having a hard time being surprised by it, as he was used to Ryoma's unpredictability. Ryoma wanted to walk over to Momo and give him the good smack he deserves, only that right now, his ability to move was only limited to blinking dumbly.

"They're good, Shishido-san," Ootori mused from the same sidelines, while Gakuto was groaning that Atobe was already boasting enough of his ability in singles, and hell, now it was doubles as well?

"Good?" Shishido looked at Ootori as if he was an idiot and Ootori blushed. "Good? They just beat the most invincible doubles pair in high school and all you can say is they're good?!"

"Ochibi!" Kikumaru cheered, and Ryoma quickly regained posture, turning pink as he tugged his cap down (the habit doesn't go away) and shoving past Atobe with a soft "che." , leaving a stunned Sanada and Yukimura behind.

"You still have lots more to work on," Atobe throws out smugly, before exiting the courts himself, his long legs catching up with Ryoma's pace.

-

Another two hours later, and Ryoma finds himself in the same courts, trying to avoid a sincere-looking Yukimura and an overly enthusiastic Kikumaru by playing a one set match with Atobe.

"Doubles," he points out, while smugly dropping the ball over to Atobe's side of the net, "is still stupid."

Atobe smirks, despite the point he lost, and adjusts his grip on his racket.

"It is," he agrees and Ryoma has to stop in mid serve because they never agreed on anything before, not ever, then curses when the ball falls onto his head. Atobe's smirk grows wider.

"Concentrate, Echizen," he drawls out, his eyes alight with amusement," You don't want me to have an easy win, do you?"

"Che," Ryoma scoffs, and give him the Cool Drive, having the satisfaction of seeing Atobe run across the other side of the court to retrieve it.

-

Ryoma sighs blissfully as he throws himself onto his bed, his towel laid forgotten since he was too lazy to dry his hair. He curls himself up in the bundle of blankets and purrs contently, closing his eyes. He hears a small chuckle and Atobe is sitting on his own side of the bed, looking at him in amusement.

" You're going to wet your pillow like that," Atobe observes, but not caring much as he rubs his own hair thoroughly. Ryoma snorts.

"I'm the one who's going to sleep on it, not you," he mumbles, too tired from their match to throw his pillow at Atobe. Besides, the only person he was willingly able to throw a pillow to without feeling childish was Momo and Kikumaru.

He's about to drift off to sleep when he feels a gentle pressure running across his hair. He scowls, trying to swat away the stimulation, but another person's hand prevents that, it being slightly warmer than his own.

" I can't have my doubles partner catch a cold now, can I?" Atobe's voice seems to be far away, a bare murmur above his ears, " We still have practice tomorrow."

Ryoma doesn't have the energy to glare or even open his eyes, so he just sighs when Atobe continues to rub his head with the abandoned towel, not admitting that it was somehow nice, in a small way. He would also not admit that when Atobe's hand brushed against the nape of his hand he shivered slightly, having nothing to do with the cold.

-

"This is crazy," Ryoma darts past an evil-looking Kirihara and punches a few coins into the vending machine. " There's a good reason why I never played doubles."

Atobe leans against the said vending machine and glances warily at the fuming Shishido behind them, barely restrained by Ootori. "It somehow frightens me that we're agreeing much too often lately."

Ryoma snickers as he retrieves his Ponta from the vending machine, still on the lookout for insane Rikkai regular members who won't take a loss for an answer. " At least all the doubles practices would be over by tomorrow," he points out, opening the frizzy can of soda and taking a gulp. He feels Atobe's gaze on him and looks up to see a strange look on Atobe's face. "What?"

The expression is gone in an instant and Atobe quickly turns away to walk towards their training camp. "Nothing," Atobe replies, and Ryoma blinks, because the tone in Atobe's voice sounded sharp and cold. "We're going to be late for dinner," Atobe throws in over his shoulder, walking away without glancing back.

It shouldn't have bothered him, but somehow it did.

-

Ryoma eyes Atobe warily out of the corner of his eye when Atobe nearly storms into their room, his gray eyes determined to avoid Ryoma altogether. He flips a page of his book, not really reading it, mostly because it was recommended by Fuji and therefore somehow it would turn out to be sappy and mysterious. He lets out an annoyed sigh when Atobe closes the bathroom door and turns on the shower knob, wondering what the hell had pissed the Hyotei captain now.

Atobe's lips are pressed together tightly together when he re-emerges, still giving him the cold shoulder and Ryoma rolls his eyes before throwing a pillow at him, hard.

On instinct, Atobe's hands grab for the pillow ( he was a tennis player after all) before shooting a glare at Ryoma, who meets his eyes as nonchalantly as possible.

" Is there a reason for you to be trying to engage me into a pillow fight?" Atobe says, eyebrow arched. "Because believe me, Echizen, I'm quite good at smothering people to death in their sleep."

Ryoma sticks his tongue out at Atobe ( he doesn't care, Atobe was the one who started this childishness) , closes the book that would never be read, and snatches Atobe's pillow from the older boy's bed, propping it against the headrest and lying down again. He can faintly smell the cologne Atobe uses, a fresh mint scent that suits Atobe somehow, closing his eyes with a barely concealed smirk. He know that Atobe would be standing stupidly, mouth threatening to hang open, and Ryoma rolls over to hide the laughter bubbling inside his throat.

What he doesn't expect Atobe to do is for the boy to hiss out , " You goddamn brat," ,march over to his side of the bed and turn him over, making him open his eyes and meeting those intense grey-blue eyes he was getting used to see.

All those thoughts shut down when Atobe fists his hair and meet his lips, those eyes not closing, drowning him thoroughly.

He knows his eyes are growing wider and he lifts his hands to maybe shove Atobe away, but somehow he doesn't want to, instead curling them into Atobe's hair, letting out a soft gasp when Atobe nibbles his lips.

"Shit," is the first word Atobe utters when he regains enough sense to finally break apart, looking horrified at the fact he let his guard down. Again, Ryoma could sense what Atobe might do next, perhaps muttering a haughty apology or just running out of their room, and neither options appeal to him when all he wants is to lean over and kiss Atobe again. He wraps his arms around Atobe tightly and does just that—Atobe's eyes shift from panic to relief and bewilderment.

This time, it's Ryoma who breathes out, "Fuck," when they gasp for air, only it's not the strained tone Atobe used earlier, more like a satisfied tone who had finally achieved something he wanted for some time.

Atobe laughs softly and meets his lips without hesitation this time, using slow, plundering movements to explore into Ryoma's mouth, his hands shifting below to finger Ryoma's shirt lightly, and trailing meaningless shapes around it.

Afterwards, they don't talk about it, but Ryoma steals away Atobe's blanket as well and they end up curled together on Ryoma's bed.

The last thing that brushed past his mind is the thought of how doubles might have a slight exception to the rule.

It was still fun to beat Atobe's ass than to cooperate, though.

-

Next up: Atobe/Ryoma Fuji, Photography. (Could LOOK like Fuji/Ryoma as well? I don't know :D)

'Photography is an art. It is to express. Yet sometimes, there are things that just can't be held onto, no matter how much you click the shutter, over and over again.'


	7. 7:Photography

Sorry for the late update, but I'm working on another fic right now that'll get posted up soon enough:D Another AtoRyo, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR EVERYTHING, the fic contains every interaction ever made with the two of them in the manga and will hopefully convince everyone to ship the pairing. Worked for me, and the fic is about how the relationship might be possible? It's after this one and it'll be divided into two parts, as I am too lazy to post it all in one go :DDDDDDD

AND TENIPURI ENDED. RYOMA WINS. DUH. AND HE GOES TO AMERICA WHERE ATOBE WILL VISIT HIM BECAUSE ATOBE ID RICH, JUST FILTHY RICH.

This is angst. I think. Er, I think? XD

Thank you for all the lovely reviews!! They're the ones that keeps me from lazing around all day!! XD It really does make me smile, it really does 

Photography

Photography is an art. Fuji learns this at the age of seven, when his mother hands him a camera for the very first time. Take a picture of Yuuta, Syusuke, she had smiled. He touches the rectangular machine, the cool, silver metal that slides open to reveal the lens when he presses the on button lightly. He learns to adjust the lens, zooming in and zooming out as he scrambles to find a better position to take the perfect photo of his baby brother. His brother smiles at him, two teeth barely showing as he snaps the shutter, capturing his brother's innocence, his love, their peacefulness. He zooms in closer and sees that Yuuta's eyes are a strange light-brown color, something that reminds him of sweet, melting chocolate.

He stuffs the photographs at the very bottom of his closet when Yuuta finally cracks and tells him he hates him.

-

The photograph's purpose was to express. Fuji learns this when he first sees a racket and he realizes this to the very bone when he begins to play tennis. The delicate art of photography was not just to simply snap a photo and click a button; it was about studying the subject from all angles, finding the right inspiration and focusing the lens to observe it from the right distance. It was about capturing what he felt; tennis, the mild thrill of playing and crushing other opponents or the determination in every game Fuji failed to show himself. He deletes capture after capture, his face showing his discontent ness at his lack of ability to express—the photographs would not glow, just sitting there lifelessly.

-

He might need to capture everything he sees because soon, it would all disappear.

Fuji first learns this when he meets Echizen and watches him play; he does not have to coax his camera into making the subject shine—Echizen was the light himself, expressing everything in his tennis, his every serve, every ball. He develops every one of Echizen's snapshots; the passion inside him now reduces to a slip of paper that would be kept there forever.

It is here he grows desperate to grasp everything Echizen would allow himself to emit; everything would soon be gone, like the time with Yuuta and Fuji can't have that. He finds inspiration inside the boy looking at him from the photo, and Fuji suddenly thinks he needs to preserve more, more, more.

-

He doesn't see Echizen again until he enters high school himself, and Fuji gets his camera ready, only to find that Echizen had changed.

He is not the challenging, cocky rookie who Tezuka trusted above all else; instead he is quiet, cold and distant. The regulars are confused, unsure of what to make of everything and Momo jokes lamely that maybe the brat had finally grown up.

Out of everyone though, it is Tezuka who is the most troubled, his face expressionless as he tells Fuji, " I think he hates me."

"Why would he?," Fuji inquires mildly, only that he know what Tezuka might be implying. He heard, like all the other regulars, about the snippets and pieces of Echizen's captaincy; 'Tezuka's shadow' the other teams would mock him, as he led the Seigaku junior high team into the nationals, twice.

Tezuka gives him this look, and Fuji smile sheepishly; he turns away and shrugs, the only advice to say : Give him some more time.

Yet days pass, and Echizen's tennis lacks the passion it once held, the tennis turning into a cold, bitter ice , and as Fuji frowns and lowers his camera, he sees Echizen looking at him with an unreadable expression across his face. His heart thuds, as if he did something terribly wrong.

-

He learns about Atobe when they enter the nationals.

Echizen is lying under a tree while the rest of the regulars are watching the semi-final outcome of the match of Hyotei and Rikkai; the one who wins will be their opponent, and the atmosphere is tense, waiting to break.

The slight sheers of Rikkai stop altogether when Atobe hits a ball that no one has seen before. Yukimura's racket clatters to the ground, dead, and Fuji wishes he had his camera for this when he notices Echizen sitting up, his face curved into the smirk Fuji hadn't seen for a long time. He is the only one who notices this, the way Echizen's face changed—back to who he had been once, who could have still been him.

Yet it capture everyone's attention when Atobe steps out of the courts and walks over to Echizen and not Tezuka, smirking in his brilliantly confident way as he says to Echizen, "I'll beat you this time."

And everyone stares as Echizen's smirk grows bigger and it was as if the only two of them existed and nothing more.

It is here that Fuji begins to doubt the potentials of photography.

--

Fuji asks for a photo.

Atobe agrees easily while Echizen sulks off.

"You took a lot of photos of me when I was twelve," he mutters, slapping away Atobe's hand, " Don't think that I don't know about it. Che."

Fuji just smiles, fiddling with his camera, humming a tune he once heard from his mother, cleaning out his lens. "It'll be with Atobe this time, though," he informs cheerfully, holding up the camera for good measure. Echizen rolls his eyes but agrees grumpily, plopping down on the bench next to Atobe, not resisting when Atobe snakes an arm around him to pull him closer.

"Why all of a sudden?," Echizen asks, just as Fuji is about to press the shutter. Fuji pauses, hesitating before uttering out, "There's this theory I want to prove." And Echizen nods, leaning his head back on Atobe's shoulders.

Fuji snaps, and the camera clicks.

"Go on," Echizen tells Atobe after, not looking at Atobe but at him, " I need to talk to Fuji-senpai."

Atobe tilts his head and nods, hands brushing past Echizen's as he says he'll be inside the coffee shop near them. Echizen's lips curl up slightly and his face is relaxed; it is something that would disappear a second later. His hands clutch the camera automatically. Echizen notices this and he wipes away the smile, his face turning unreadable again. "Fuji-senpai."

"Echizen," Fuji smiles, it was the only thing he could say he was proud to master so effortlessly. Echizen studies him and Fuji waits, his heartbeat a steady thump.

"You can't capture everything inside there you know," Echizen finally points out, nodding to the camera. Fuji's eyes snap open; he goes perfectly still.

Echizen smiles a bit wearily; he doesn't meet Fuji's eyes. "It's just a picture," he continues, studying his hands. " It's all going to disappear someday."

Photography is an art. It is to express. Yet there are things that cannot be expressed because it is too impossible to capture every little movement. His fingers curl to his camera protectively and he fails to answer. Echizen doesn't expect one and he soon joins Atobe after nodding to Fuji.

No, Fuji thinks, watching Atobe lean down to kiss Echizen, no, perhaps I can't because someday I'll forget this feeling and photos will only be a blurred memory. Yet he wants to, he needs to, he has to.

--

The picture he developed of Atobe and Echizen looks back at him, their faces glazed and frozen. He can't capture their passion because they won't allow it and he cannot face them but he wants to, he wants it so badly. He throes the photo away; it is nothing more than a scrap of paper—he doesn't like the two faces staring at him, silently mocking his failure of talents.

Fuji smiles, only because he forgot how to cry.

He stows his camera away along with Yuuta's photos.

--

To me, Fuji is either a genius or a bastard. Either way I love him so much :D


	8. 8:Obssession Part 1

This IS a future fic, just not on this part. It includes ALL the interactions of Atobe and Ryoma and I was trying to express what would make them attract each other, slowly, and volia! This came up.

Atobe/Echizen: Obsession (Only time will tell what you really want to know)

"You've changed."

Your mother tells you this on a warm summer day, a day that make your eyes cringe and look away from the warm sunlight that was sparkling onto every surface it could reach. The air is heavy and stifling; moisture clouds your vision and you frown slightly as you wipe your brow with your left hand. Then you take in what your mother had said a moment ago, and you can only blink. You stop shoveling the soil, your fingers reaching out for the roses. "Mother?"

Your mother stops her share of gardening as well and her eyes look up to meet yours, the same shade of blue-grey eyes that you had loved as a child. Her mouth curves slightly around the corners somewhat sheepishly; she shrugs her shoulders and tucks in a bit of stray hair, breaking away the eye contact and focusing her attention to her plants once more. "You've grown up," she amends softly, and you frown at this, the vagueness of her tone that indicated something was amiss, there was more to it than that. You still do not shovel the soil. The heat is getting to you and you wish for a cool glass of lemonade, one that nanny often made on a day like this. Your mother just came back from the Pacific Islands and she dragged you to help with her gardening. Servant stuff, you might have called it, but for some absurd reason your mother is fond of trimming the flowers and the grass growing in your backyard. You are here helping your mother now, but she is suddenly into a psychic mode and tells you you've changed in the two weeks you haven't seen her.

"Mother," you persist again, and your mother gives a wry little chuckle, shaking her head, her brown hair catching the rays of the sunlight, sparkling like gold. She does not look at you again but she does open her mouth to elaborate. "I just realized…you've grown up a lot." Her hands move swiftly, pulling out the weeds and placing them down on the ground. "Not the young child who used to crawl under the covers."

You want to scowl at this, but you refrain from doing so. You are ten years old now; such expressions must be hidden and avoided.

Your mother sighs, a tired sigh more than anything. "I suppose that it was bound to happen." Her eyes hold a strange light, maybe it was the sun, but her face is troubled as she glances up again.

"Keigo," she says softly, and it's a whisper that travels through the heat waves, "Do you like gardening? You used to hate it so much, but now….." she takes a breath, a small huff of air and waits for your answer.

No, you do not like it. You hate the thick, brown, dirty soil, infested with bugs and germs, you do not like the unbearable heat, and you do not like the sickly scent of flowers waving their existence into his nose. You do not like it, you despise it, you want this to be over so you could go read your Latin textbook again.

"Yes mother," your mouth comes out a flawless voice—your teacher would be proud, your voice is an even tone, not betraying anything worthy—" Really, I wouldn't be here otherwise, would I?"

Your mother searches you for a moment and she stays silent. The weeds look like corpses, lying on top of the other.

"People change, Keigo," the tone is a firmer one; it is the usual tone of your mother, her no-nonsense voice you are used to hearing. "Even you. Maybe not overnight but—they change. What they think, how they feel….." she trails off again, and you notice the small wrinkles on her face and you realize you have never considered your mother as old before. She does not continue, and you do not ask her.

People change.

You have never believed in absolution or in fate, because it was you who controlled your own life, your own destiny. Yet that one sentence you mother told you about a predicament, something that was out of your power, something you could not change. You hate being powerless. You will not change. You will always feel the same thing about everything and anything; you will continue to hate gardening, you will continue to like Greek and Latin, and you will continue to follow your mother in her gardening just so you could see her face for a bit longer.

You are ten years old. What you do not know is that your mother was not talking about gardening. She did not mean to ask that question.

What she had wanted to ask was, do you hate me for not being a good mother?

--

There are no sparks flying when you meet him for the first time.

A name brushes past your memory, the name Echizen, and then the full name, Echizen Ryoma. You are sitting down on the upper stand when he enters the street courts, his hands tucked inside his pockets, his feet walking in a light fashion that showed off his ease of balance in tennis. His arms and legs were well-toned as normal athletics' bodies should be, the skin a tad bit darker then yours, but yours was pale even by the normal standards so this was to be expected.

Then you see his eyes, and you do not like that cocky look lurking inside the depths.

He struts up the courts and here you take him as a whole, a runt who happened to get a bit lucky in the first few matches he had played in the tournaments, an air of superiority wrapping his small frame because of those wins, and you feel the need to tear that air apart.

Yet you do nothing, because this boy would not be worth your trouble. Just a new arrival that would soon disappear, a name no one would remember by the time nationals came around.

He demands for a match. The desire to crush that arrogance overtakes you for the barest second. You do not act upon it. You are older than him; you are more mature than that—you already know what the outcome would be, who the winner would be.

He jeers and taunts are you scared?

You stare into his eyes. Arrogance. Someone who has never encountered defeat. Someone who knows nothing about tennis, the beauty of a true win. You could have shown him. Have him laying on the same courts he stood now, his racket flung across the net, feel the satisfaction of his defeat, have him at your mercy. You could play him. Test him, to see how good he was, see for yourself if he was just as good as all the rumors said him to be, see where all that confidence came from.

You do not do it though, there was no reason to. The match with Seigaku was coming up soon and you would be having a match with Tezuka, a much more worthy opponent than that freshman would ever be. The brat was not worth it, no matter how much a prodigy he was. Tezuka was something more. So you smirk at his immaturity and walk away.

Later, you find yourself looking back at the face of Echizen Nanjiroh on your computer screen; the Samurai tennis player who could have changed the history of tennis. The word stays with you for some unknown reason: change.

The next day, the practice drills rise up as twice as hard. No one complains about it, although you see Oshitari looking at you thoughtfully.

--

You won the match with Tezuka.

The ball does not make it over into your side of your net; you know this even before the ball actually hits the net itself. You already knew the result before the referee announces it. And then, everyone would know that you have defeated the Tezuka Kunimistu. This, for some reason, does not leave you satisfied; you had wanted something more, he had given you something you could not understand.

You approach him at the net. He reaches out for your hand. You take it and lift it high into the air, sweat mingling sweat, heavy breathing mixing into the heat. You do not let go for a while. The chants of Hyotei could be heard and there's your name among the cheers, as expected of Atobe Keigo. You look at him, ignoring the background for a second.

You idiot, you want to say to him. You goddamn idiot. You do not say this though. You also do not say that he has given you something to mull over, he has given you a match he would never forget for the years to come, that it was meant to be his victory, that you do not feel like you won.

You broke my Insight, you do not say. You just grasp his hand tighter and let go.

He gives you this fleeting look and the brown eyes bore into him and he turn away; the message was still received. You walk away as well and sit on the benches, face molded into a perfect mask.

Then it's Hiyoshi's turn. You look into Seigaku's side of the court and see Echizen walking up to the net, his face hidden beneath his cap.

You feel no need to watch the game. Hiyoshi would win it and Hyotei would go up to the nationals. Hyotei would win.

Arrogance would get you nowhere. You watch him serve, his hands fisting into the yellow ball. You are someone that is just a passing.

Twenty minutes later, you let your towel fall to the ground as you see him win, not even going into the tiebreak.

You stare at where Hiyoshi was standing with his head bowed down and something flares up inside you—you have never seen this kind of play before, not the least bit calculated or staged; this was tennis, in its pure simple form, wild and fiery, the ball passing over the net so quickly you could have missed it. You clench your fists. He might have something, something that was worth all the rumors perhaps, but it was not enough for you to acknowledge him. Not yet. Too soon.

You think he might have caught your eyes for a moment and made that confident smirk, or maybe it was a trick of the light. You do not dwell on this.

Somehow, this foreign style of tennis frightens you. It might even overcome his Insight one day.

The heat is stifling; the sun is too bright. Hyotei would not be going into the nationals.

Somehow, something tells you to watch the rerun of the match again. You sit in your chair all night and you see his face in the screen, but it is not the same. You click on the rewind button and his face is too blurred. The camera did not capture his face as you have seen with your own eyes, face knowing that he will win, will win, will win.

Echizen. You repeat his name slowly, tongue rolling against your lips. You will not admit he has intrigued you, yet.

--

You do not drop Hiyoshi from the regulars.

"I lost the game," Hiyoshi says to you stiffly; his hands are by his sides and his eyes avoid looking into your own ones. "I should be dropped off from the Regulars. It's the rules."

"And I am the Captain." You arch an eyebrow at him. Your hands are folded across your chest, your body leaning against one of the lockers. Why you are having this conversation, you do not know. It should be simple really; you were the one to make the decisions and everyone else should follow them without question. You shift your foot. Hiyoshi does not speak up. Then there's a rough snap. "I lost the game. I lost— "

" I know you did, in case you've forgotten, I have seen the games with my own eyes— "

" I lost the chance for us to go into the nationals!!"

Silence. Hiyoshi clenches his fists tightly and his head is bowed down, hiding his face. You stare at him for a moment and wonder if you should tell him. That it was about luck, he was just unlucky Kabaji did not win in the Singles match and the tournament had to be dragged onto his shoulders, that he was just unlucky to be placed as a reserve, it was about luck really. Like the time with Shishido, it was plain coincidence he had that match with Tachibana and lost. It could have been anyone at his place and Hyotei still might have lost. The thought irritates you, so you refrain from saying it otherwise.

Instead you speak in this cold voice you use to control the two hundred members of your tennis team, "Well then, there's a next time, isn't there? Or are you planning to lose next year as well?"

Hiyoshi snaps his head up in surprise. You do not even blink.

"You can't undo something that has already happened. Maybe you should think about winning the next match instead, or I might have to reconsider my decision on making you as captain for next year." You ease your weight off the lockers. "I will not have losers on my team."

You do not say Echizen was a worthy opponent, because they will beat him next time.

Hiyoshi nods slightly, his face once again masked, and you smirk.

"Now, how about letting you experience what a real defeat feels like, ahn?"

--

"Game Rikkai! 5-1!"

You see him kneeling down on his knees, his face scrunched up as if in pain, his cap tossed somewhere along the stands. You hear Sanada's laugh, a cruel, low sound that echoes around the court and Sanada serves again.

You see his face when his chin lifts up, and he is grinning. Your hands go up to grip the fence irons. You do not take your eyes off the match.

"Game Seigaku! 5-2!"

He returns Sanada's shot. His eyes do not lose that confidence. The sun is enwrapping his body, making him glow. Your face is impassive. Your eyes follow the ball.

_Damn it, don't you dare lose, Echizen._

"5-3!"

His tension is getting higher, like the time it had with Hiyoshi. You see Hiyoshi's face set in a grim line out of the corner of your eyes, the ball's speed increasing steadily, not knowing how to slow down.

"5-4!!"

His face looks far more satisfied than the match with Hiyoshi. "Yes!!!!!" You hear his scream ring into your ears.

Echizen's face is alight with a certain passion; his face is glowing and his face is not holding its casualness, it is burning and intense, mouth twisting into a smile and his body, emitting energy. You see his tennis and it's on fire, flame flickering against the air, racket swinging into all directions, burning, alive, tennis.

For a fleeting moment you wonder how it would feel to be the one to face Echizen across the net, giving all you have, seeing his face and playing him.

"0-40!"

"One more ball!"

"Emperor! Emperor!"

The cheers of Rikkai would not stop, but you take no heed as you take in Sanada's plays, a swift swing of his racket, his movements fast and light. Like the wind, maybe.

Echizen chases after the ball. His steps are hard, crushing the surface with every step.

"5-5!!"

Then, their eyes meet. It is for the shortest second, but they meet, and Echizen's eyes widen slightly, surprised to see you there. You do not break the eye contact.

_Win it. You better win this match._

He scores, and he turns back to look at you, more fully this time, and his face lifts up in a slight smirk, it is barely there. He serves the ball. You continue to watch him.

_I want to play you. _

You want to play him.

_I need to play you._

Your hands clench the fence tighter. Oshitari sees this, and he tilts his head. "Atobe," he says, but you do not answer back, your eyes boring into the game, the want , the need to stand into the courts and play the rookie, make him emit the energy, make you get lost into the game, make you have the need the defeat him, the want to crush him.

Sanada's face is in a determined aura, his tennis become more focused, more accurate. Echizen ignores this and makes his moves more demanding, more thrilling.

You loosen your grip on the fence as Echizen hits a shot that was suppose to be impossible in normal standards.

"7-5! Won by Echizen Ryoma!"

He had defeated the Emperor.

The court is silent for a brief second, then the cheers erupt, and you see Echizen being tossed into the air. Your face reveals nothing. You turn and walk away.

"He actually did it."

_You actually defeated Rikkai._

The fence marks are still engraved on your hand when you get home. You go up to your room immediately and bring out your racket to hit the yellow ball against the wall again and again, the match not erasing from your memory. You see his face again, the face of a match well played, a face that covered up nothing. You grit your teeth and the speed of the ball goes up.

You want to play him. You need to play him. You want what he would give you. You want a match with his tennis.

This time, you do not bother watching the rerun of the tape. You lie on your bed instead, images fogging your brain and not letting go.

--

You work out in the gym everyday now. Shishido sees this and snorts that you'll tire out yourself too soon. Oshitari, being Oshitari, does not comment as usual, choosing to only look, his face a strange look between amusement and concern.

You assign both of them laps.

The second years are working harder than ever now, with Shishido being the one supervising Ootori and Hiyoshi, barking orders but still making them improve all the same. He could have made a good vice captain, you muse, then erases the thought away.

Hyotei has never needed vice-captains. They were the kings of their own world.

The court is deserted when you enter it, and he grips the tennis ball tighter. You think about Echizen's last shot, the ball that had whizzed past the court smoothly, stopping just at the line outside. You look across the net and you think you see him, his eyes gleaming and mouthing come on, what are you waiting for? You want to beat me, right?

You want to play me, right? You want to surpass everything, right?

_Yes._

You raise the ball high and serve the ball; a perfect imitation of Echizen's shot.

--

They enter the nationals with luck on their side.

"Game, won by Hyotei!!"

Nothing matters now but meeting Seigaku and defeating them, reclaiming Hyotei's glory, the glory that was meant to be theirs, the glory that would be theirs.

You practice more, your tennis becoming intense one second, icy the next, your shots all accurate and flawless, shouting at the team to go, go, go move faster and _more._

They run and serve at a speed you have yet to seen but you are still not satisfied, ordering more, demanding more, and you train harder than anyone else.

"6-4! Won by Atobe Keigo!"

The team that lost to them whisper in scatters, and you hear bits of it, none of them worth hearing.

"Just because they happen to be Tokyo—"

"That's right, they weren't actually meant to be here—"

"They just got damn lucky—"

You do not bother with the rest. What matters is Seigaku, and winning. Everything else could go to hell, for all he cared.

--

You know Tezuka would put Echizen for Singles One. Your hand is steady when you scrawl your name on the form, Atobe Keigo. Singles One.

_I am going to play you, and you are going to show me why your tennis is so special._

--

It finally comes down to this.

"The winner will be Atobe! The winner will be Atobe! The winner will be—"

"—me."

Echizen walks into the courts and snaps his fingers. You watch him and do not bother to correct him. He smirks. You return it, your hand reaching to unzip your jacket.

"So, the day has finally come," he drawls out, and you are pleased to note that his face is already gleaming at the prospect of defeating you, not that it was going to happen.

You return his gaze and you notice, his eyes are a strange color of hazel, almost the color of gold but not quite.

"I don't care if you are the price of tennis," you shoot back, tossing your jacket onto the bench; Kabaji catches it, "I am the King."

His smirk doesn't waver, and his eyes are taunting the same taunt are you scared?

He cocks his head to one side. "You're not all that strong. Just talk."

You raise an eyebrow. "Watch your mouth."

His smirk grows wider. "Just make sure you don't regret it."

"Say that after you beat me." You pause for a minute, thinking that Echizen was not like your other opponents, that he was someone who has yet to see the potential you possess, apart from the match with Tezuka and you think that neither of them would take this match very seriously if he thought that. You both aim higher for something, for higher goals. He does not know what you are capable of. But you know the things he could do. And you would use that against him--you will crush him, and then, you will win Tezuka again, reclaiming your true victory. You want him playing at his fullest, defeat him in that exact limit, and lead Hyotei into the Nationals.

This is why you do something you have never done before: you put your hair into the match and place a bet with him, putting your pride on the line as well.

This was a match you could not lose.

"You haven't even reached Tezuka's potential yet."

His eyes flicker in annoyance, then the look disappears. "So?"

You do not shake hands. That was what rivals and equals would do, and they would never be equals; one of them would always surpass the other.

--

Echizen had the potential.

You could see it in the way that he holds his racket, the want to become someone higher than what he was, the confidence to reach higher peaks and impossible goals, the will to play and play until he was out of stamina yet still holding his racket and still playing. Winning at whatever costs, not backing out from a challenge. You feel the fire burning now, like the time with Sanada but it's a small flicker and you want to see more, more, _more_—you meet his eyes and think, you have the potential to actually become somebody, somebody who might be known, somebody, somebody, and your hands are sweating, thinking, you might even become greater then Tezuka.

You see it in Tezuka's eyes, and he knows that too, that Echizen will one day surpass them all.

Today would not be day however. Echizen could beat you few years later, maybe when they were in high school, but today would not be the day, no, this would be for Hyotei, you would be the one to win this, and he will not surpass you today.

Someday though, he will.

Those eyes do not leave your own, and you position yourself. Show me your tennis, you think silently. Show me the tennis that lead Seigaku this far, the tennis that defeated Rikkai. Show me.

Echizen smirks and throws the ball. He shows you.

--

You begin to play him. As you do, a scene enters your mind. It is you and your mother and your mother is saying something, something about people and about change and –

_You've changed._

_People change. Even you, Keigo. On how they might feel, on how they might think._

It was the sort of absolution you had wanted to deny. That you would twist this around, you would never change, not for anything or for anyone.

Echizen broke down your barriers, up to the very last sheet.

You slam the ball harder.

--

Uh, Yeah, The reason I cut it here is because the match with Atobe and Ryoma is seriously, the highlight of their relationship, the possibility that they fall for each other here is the greatest and damn I need to express it more clearly.

And the childhood Keigo? Awww,bet he hated gardening, that bookworm :D

Did I persuade you yet? (beams)


	9. 9: Obssession Part 2

Thanks to all for the reviews:D I can't really thank you enough and they were so thoughtful--abhorsen3, you guessed right about Fuji and yes I meant it like that, only you phrased it so much better than what I was intending to message out :DDDD, thank you for your lovely reviews!! (Keigo is a bookworm, I swear on my grave XDD) And Darkest Illusions!! Thank you for your review as well and I'm glad you liked my story, we do need more of royal get-together fics only that they're hard to write I've noticed :DDDDDDD They tend to cooperate better when they're already in a relationship. OTL

Ta-da it's the next part and it's…not the last OTL. This is becoming too long for my liking; I didn't intend this to be that long.

No future scenes here I'm afraid, but I did manage for all the interactions to finish up to the end. (TENIPURI SO DID NOT END IT DID NOT OH GOD) And I'm debating if I should rate an M for the next one; it does get a bit…intense:D Ah well. We'll see.

I'll promise I'll go edit my fics when I have the time OTL

--

You bring out your serve. He studies you for a time, and he brings out his self-actualization. You smirk and think it is too easy to stimulate him.

--

His tennis disappoints you at first

Tennis, you have learned long ago, was a type of a strange art form, deciding where you would hit the next and predict the opponent's next move. Tennis was an art in which two people are needed to finish it and make the audience gasp in awe. Like the match with Tezuka's where the form took on a steady burning fire in the shape of determination. Or the match with Echizen's and Sanada's where the form was the exact form of passion, the will to defeat.

Echizen's tennis is too reckless, slamming the ball with a style that was not his, the tennis too unpredictable; it is up to the point of you getting impatient, so, is this your tennis? The cheers reach your ears, of Echizen's play style, his self-actualization, and you grit your teeth, thinking, fools to all, maybe expect for Tezuka, since he is looking as impassionate as ever. The points do not matter now, and you think yourself a fool as well for anticipating this match that will give you no satisfaction in the end, You were right, he was not the worthy tennis player everyone claimed to him to be.

You bring out the Ice World, and he is crushed. You see Sanada look at you from outside the courts, and you know he is thinking of their match a year ago.

The eyes in him changes after the fifth game, and they observe you with a sense of amusement but there is also a bit of respect in them. You don't want to care, but a part of you does.

"You're strong."

It is flung at you carelessly, the wind traveling his words, and you hear the understatement in that sentence: but I am stronger than you.

Your face carves into a cold smile, and here the will to break him takes over you so strongly, and this feeling frightens you—it is a feeling that is even stronger than the time with Tezuka's and you do not know the reason for this. Maybe it was because you hated confidence in any form, and you wanted him to bow down before you. Maybe you wanted him to see you in your true form, why you were the Hyotei captain and why you were the tennis player people saw you to be. Either way, you wanted to make him feel powerless. You bring out the impossible and you make Echizen unable to move.

He brings out the Tezuka Zone.

He closes his eyes at first, and you think, so he's finally lost it, amused and yet still disappointed that Echizen was just a fluke but no matter; Hyotei was more important than your desire for a match, but even here, even then, you still think he has something up his sleeve, if the match at the Kantou meant anything to you. You still think, in a small part of your mind, that this wouldn't be it, it wasn't over yet, and you throw the ball.

He returns it.

Your eyes widen in shock and his open, directed to you, and there is a new sense of power in them, saying, you can't beat me that easy. You stare back and answer back no, but I still will beat you either way. The match resumes again, and you realize this movement after Echizen returns the shots a few more times, The Tezuka Zone.

This makes you angry. You don't know why. He returns all your shots and across the net, you think you might feel Tezuka's presence near him, urging him on, and it is not just you and him anymore, it is the three of them and you hate it, you hate it, and you can't explain _why_. The speed of your strokes increase. _This is suppose to be a match between you and me. _

"Game Echizen! 1-4!!"

You see all his weaknesses. You see where you could hit the ball. Yet he returns all of it, and his face is amused. He looks as if he is enjoying himself.

" You'll be one to shave your hair," he taunts over the net, and you sneer. You hit the ball over to that annoying brat and think,_ I will win, I need to win, fuck what the hell is happening._

Your hands freeze and he slams the ball right back again. You can't return it, and he seems to know it before you. You see that smirk fleet onto his face.

The Rondo of Destruction.

--

The match lasts, still. Both of them are panting out by now.

"I'll admit, I'm surprised you got here even this far," you leer while your racket collides with the ball—the ball is heavy and dull, but you hit it anyway—"But you can't beat me, not ever." You mean it as an absolution. It is also to convince yourself.

Not ever.

He does not answer back, just the same eyes and now those eyes look like little orbs of gold, shining and sparkling, and you know he wants to break that absolution, if it is an absolution at all. Your tennis loses its cool and your tennis becomes as furious and fast as him. He reminds you of yourself in the most distracting ways sometimes, like the way he would never give up to the very last shot, like the way he feels pleasure in proving people wrong and proving himself in the process. He remind of you of what you are, what you have been, and it almost feels as if you're looking at another version of yourself. He was not like Tezuka, whose face had been purely noble during their match, for the sake of his team, face set in grim determination, but Echizen, Echizen's was alight with challenge, he was playing for his own selfish reasons, and you see him, and you want to keep that face captured, the flame. The ball does not register into your mind. Passion. Show me passion.

_Yes._

You can't help but smile inside your head, and you drive the ball into the point of almost insanity. This is it, this was what you wanted and Echizen was giving you this, this challenge, this thrill, this tension, _this friction. _The ball obeys you and curves in all the directions you want, and Echizen returns them all.

"Tezuka!"

Tezuka looks at you. His face is unreadable.

"This is the result of what you'll get if you rest your team's fate onto the shoulders of a first year!"

He knows though, like he always does; he is another captain just like you and he could depict the message hidden under there: _He could surpass you one day. Do you know that?_

He shifts his gaze to Echizen; the ball is heading towards the boy.

"I haven't given it to him yet." You hear him say. _I know what he is capable of. _A proud, bitter echo inside the air and you smirk at that.

"No, I'll be the one to take it away from him!," he adds in, and you know he will, soon enough.

It is here you hear a disturbing creak. You look up, and it makes your eyes widen.

"Watch out!!!!!!! Ryoma-kun!!!!!!!!!!"

_Oh shit._

The lights that were hanging on the stands are coming off, and it was about to drop into Echizen's side of the court. And the ball was still in Echizen's favor.

_Get out of the way, you idiot, get out, move, move, move!!!!!!!_

He returns the ball nevertheless. You did not expect anything less, but still, you cannot be helped but shocked. You miss the ball, you do not even attempt to run after it, frozen to the ground you are.

Insane, is what Oshitari would murmur, and you have to agree with him. He grins at you, a true grin, promising you so many things you want, and him swearing that you'll get them all, wait and see.

"I broke your Ice World," he throws over to you and you smile back, he feels like tennis.

"Let's see the end for this game, then." _As expected of the Samurai Echizen._

The game resumes.

--

"You can't be satisfied with only this kind of tennis!," you shout to him, and right now, it is the only two of you existing, no one else.

"I should be the one to tell you that," he returns, and everything is a blur to you.

You laugh, a real laugh that was true than anything else. Echizen is also looking at him in merit, and eyes hold you in again; you don't want to look away. This is want you wanted. A challenge, a way to show someone that you were powerful, and Echizen is experiencing that right now, and you crave for this win, not for the team, no , but for himself. You watch his wrist flickering, and you use your Insight to the fullest, I will win, I will win, and you concentrate up to his very last blink.

"89-89! Echizen Ryoma!"

_Show me more_, those eyes say to him right now and you can't help but oblige him.

--

Your body won't move. Your mind is screaming more, more, _more._

The screams are getting to you. Echizen is sprawled across from you, a net dividing you both. You feel dead, but it is almost like living.

"Get up! _Get up, Atobe_!" Shishido's voice; only he could be so aggressive to his captain, "Get up, this isn't like you, stand up, damnit!"

"Echizen! Up, get up!"

The winner would be Hyotei.

"The winner…would be Hyotei."

This is also an absolution. This would not change, no, you would not be the one to change this.

You get up shakily. Echizen does not move. You look at him and you think, you are going to win, aren't you though. You like to break the predicaments made by others, don't you. You do not feel sick over this; your eyes are beginning to lose focus, your mind hazy.

_It was a good game. _

You thought that there would be no match as satisfying as Tezuka's, because Tezuka was the light of the junior tennis in Japan, the one who everyone wanted to beat, to overcome. Yet you had not felt the thrill of beating him then; here, you are about to lose but you still feel alive. You don't know why. It doesn't matter now; you are about to fade anyways.

_You tend to take people by surprise don't you? Echizen Ryoma._

You lose consciousness.

--

Later, at night, you feel the rough, bushy feeling of your hair and you stay silent. The team is present at your house, and Shishido is ranting furiously that they should bury Echizen alive and the rest of Seigaku as well.

"Will you shut up," you finally say when Shishido gets to his thirty-seventh way on how they could murder Echizen, maybe while he was asleep, "And, yes, that was an order."

"How could you be so calm about your hair?!" Shishido waves his hands in exaggeration, his face in fury. You have to roll your eyes for his drama. "It was your hair, fuck, and he had no fucking right to just shave it off your—"

"You seem to forget that you also cut off your own glory of hair," you remark dryly, and he flushes at this, memories coming back to him. He shuts his mouth after that. "You also seem to forget that it was I who established the ridiculous bet in the first place. Echizen was keeping his end in the bet. I ," you look in mirror thoughtfully, wondering why he didn't shave off your head bald but left it at that," would have done the same to him." Had you won.

There is a cold silence at those words, letting the loss sink into them, and it is a bitter atmosphere, that fact that they had been steamrolled by Seigaku twice, and Mukahi grunts, "We could have done better."

We could have done better and Seigaku would have done more. You chuckle a bit warily at that. "Next time," you amend, and it would be next time, there was always a next time. Next year, the next and the next. You would not give up and neither would the others. Hyotei was too proud sometimes, and this was why you had chosen Hyotei among all the other school, for its pride, for its glory. It reminds you of what you will be, one day.

Ootori smiles at this and he nods. "It was a good match though, Buchou," he offers steadily and the rest of the team agrees, although Oshitari throw in, " A bit mad, but still good." His eyes tell you more than that, but you avoid it.

You let a smirk grace over your lips. "Of course it was," and you touch your locks again. It was tennis, after all.

He has given you something, and now you want more.

--

You do not look into his direction during the insane party before the finals. He, however, runs you over, and he sees your hair, the one that nearly cost you a fortune to implant your original glory until it grew back, and he raises an eyebrow. But he doesn't comment on it. He does, however give you this barely, non-existent smile, and you can almost, almost hear him say _good game, wasn't it?_

They have never really spoken to each other, only these misleading words, traveling thorough the air, only barbs exchanged between them. People would think they might be sworn enemies, the way they insult, the way they attack.

What they do not know is, the world is much deeper than what meets the eye.

You return it with your own silence,_ you better win the finals._

_Don't I always?_

--

Oshitari finally tells you carefully that you seem to be distant ever since the match with Echizen. You snap at him to work on his doubles if he has time for such nonsense.

--

Oshitari stays silent when he boards on the helicopter. You bark orders at the driver and the helicopter lifts up. Momoshiro looks nervous, but he seems to be shocked for a brief moment, enough to ask, "Why are you doing this?"

You will not meet those eyes. They will never understand, because Momoshiro has never seen Echizen like you had, as a person to be defeated but not an equal, someone that you need to prove your worth to. Oshitari hums quietly, but he is too waiting for an answer.

What you tell him is, very far from the truth, "We don't want Rikkai to win, do we now?" You focus your attention to the ground below you, growing farther and farther away. "You beat us all once. At least have the power to go all the way up to the peak."

Momoshiro nods, accepting your answer, whereas Oshitari snorts and nearly elbows you. This was not about the teams, it was about you and him, only you and him, but you cannot admit that to anyone else, but still, Oshitari knows. Bullshit, you could hear him say, loud and clear, and for a moment there you are tempted to tell him, well then? What do you want me to say? That I want Echizen and only Echizen to achieve the peak? That I want him to play, that I need to see him play, that I want to see him alive? You do not say, because Oshitari knows all this and he just wants you to admit this over your head, and perhaps more. You do not say this, because you are capable of hiding away your most inner thoughts like the time with your mother, and that was why you had become the captain in your first year.

You do not say what Oshitari want you to admit most of all: I want him to play, and I want to see that only for myself.

--

He blinks at you. You stare back at him. He blushes and averts his eyes.

_What the fuck._

Next to you, Oshitari is speechless and Momoshiro is gaping like an idiot. Echizen is sitting across from you, fiddling with his fingers; the fingers that made you surpass your limit, not that he would remember now. He didn't remember anything, not even tennis, and you have to suppress a gulp at that.

It was as if you just fell into a cliché angst film, the one your mother often watched, where someone lost their memory and it was up to someone else to retrieve it. You were not some kind of fucking hero and what you want to do now is to shake those small shoulders hard and scream how could you not remember? How could you not remember what you are, what you had reduced all the players into, what you had reduced me into? How could you forget how damned you were, all so fucking cocky and that hateful confidence, that attitude, begging to be tested? How could you forget all so suddenly?

You turn away.

His eyes are studying you again, wide hazel eyes, not the golden you have seen in the courts, and you feel his hesitancy waving into you and you grind your teeth, don't look at me, don't look at me, don't.

Oshitari is shifting next to you and you feel his anxiety as well, and Momoshiro is just sitting there and blinking, just lost for words and frozen.

You know your eyes are locked up and cold when you do meet his eyes. He blinks his eyes at you and you stay the icy composure people often see on you, except for the few ones you acknowledge as someone important in your life. This Echizen was not one of them. This was not the Echizen who played you and won you over, this was not the brat that bugged you even in your sleep, this was not it.

You know your eyes are showing hatred. And you know that this…Echizen received the message when he lowers his eyes again, hands clasped tightly in front of him. You do not bother correcting him, thinking that maybe it had been hatred after all, all these unhealthy doses of Echizen-musings, all those insults and barbs. It seems like hate right now, thinking it was only you who knew how their match had really felt, you who only knew this secret, no point in the secret if there was nobody else to share it with.

You know this to be not true, but it hardly matters anymore.

--

"I'm coming with you."

Sanada nods barely, and they walk together side-by-side to where Echizen might be at. Spectators are watching them, mouths open, as they watch the King and Emperor line up together. You ignore them.

"You want him to remember, don't you," Sanada says in amidst of their silence, and you are caught off-guard for a moment, then you remember that Sanada had also played the boy, not that long ago. This make you twitch slightly. Sanada is not looking at you when he plunges on, "You want him to remember you. This isn't really for his sake is it?"

"As if you are any different," you sneer, and your eyes focus on the empty courts where Momoshiro dragged Echizen minutes ago. "This isn't really for Rikkai is it? It isn't for Yukimura."

He arches an eyebrow. He does not answer the accusation. "He defeated you."

"He defeated _you_," you snap back, voice threatening to freeze, "And I could defeat you now."

He smiles a grim smile. "By using the Ice World, is it?"

"Ahn."

"It doesn't matter. He overcame it; so will I." The voice is too steady for your liking. "That would be my only loss. They will be no more."

"Oh?" You smirk at his bluntness but you do nit rise up to the challenge. "You could have defeated him than. You didn't use every movement against him."

You touched a nerve; Sanada stiffens and whirls his head around to glare at you. "I felt no reason to," is what he says, and you can feel anger inside it.

"Because he was unworthy?"

"Because he is _young._"

"Young?" You laugh; you can't help it, it was pure irony. "He's only two years younger then us."

He averts his eyes. His voice is hard. "I felt no need to break him. He still could go higher."

"And you felt the need to crush Tezuka." You let the curve of your lips disappear. "Why, I wonder."

"You once beat him as well. You tell me."

"You didn't feel any satisfaction, did you."

"……..No." It was not a question; you did not mean it to be.

"He could have defeated you still. Echizen would have. The results wouldn't have changed." He has something, something that is just waiting to be revealed. Sanada knows this as well, which is why he stays silent.

You chuckle. "You underestimated him. He is not the one to go down easily." You knew this the moment he broke your Ice World. Sanada knew this as well, the moment Echizen used his Cool Drive for his win.

Sanada does not speak after that, and you do not choose to provoke him anymore.

--

"Are you sure he's still in his memory-lost state?", you inquire dryly to Sanada, who was standing next to him and observing Echizen attacking Hiyoshi with his moves, "Because frankly, it is impossible for someone to learn tennis at a speed as fast as this."

Sanada grunts, his eyes focusing on the boy. "His body might remember it for him," he replies, "even if his mind doesn't."

You smirk and watch this new Echizen that somehow resembled the old Echizen in more ways than one, and it occurs to you that maybe it wouldn't matter if he did not gain his memory back, you still could play him, and this Echizen seems to love tennis just as much, if the grin on his face indicated that more then anything else. Your hands itch for your racket.

You walk up to the courts next, your eyes taking in Echizen as a whole. Echizen is startled at the sight of you, his eyes freezing for a moment there, his shoulders tensing, and you feel slightly guilty for the hatred you emitted back in the helicopter. You offer him a small smile unrevealing your eyes a little, and he relaxes, as he too, smiles, and you think it is almost like a smirk.

After the fourth game, he stops in his mid-serve and he lowers his racket. You frown at the stillness in his pose, and then you are looking into his eyes, _his _eyes.

"Monkey King," he says, and you refrain from gaping, although you're tempted, and Momoshiro is the one laughing in relief. You stay silent, and now you feel you can appreciate the light in him, gold, gold, gold. You hold his eyes for a long time, and there are so many things you want to say to him, things you need to hear out from your mouth, but in the end it only comes down to—" You better win the match, brat."

He laughs, and you can smirk as well, noting Sanada was gone as soon as soon as Echizen regained his attitude back.

_Coward. _But you know that secretly Sanada is relieved, although the bastard would never admit it.

Times are changing because of your strength. You laugh long and hard at this after he has gone, and while Hiyoshi looks at you as if you are mad, he too, knows the insanity you might possess because of Echizen. It was as if you have discovered a new side of you through Echizen, the will to run harder and faster, higher, and still, it has to be more.

_You are going to change history, just like your father, if not more._

And you know that you are imagining your shock at this very thought, knowing very well that this was same person that challenged you to the courts for the very first time, not so very long ago.

"Echizen Ryoma," your lips escape the name, and it tastes of a new absolution; you shiver slightly at the sound, the sound of a promise.

--

Yukimura is crushing the boy.

You want to kill him.

Yukimura is laughing, a soft, mellow laugh, and he is looking at his opponent in distaste, his eyes full of cruel amusement. "Is this all you have, boy?" He is refusing to accept Echizen's existence, and you are watching that tennis, the tennis that lead Rikkai up to the top, the Rikkai tennis, cruel and unforgiving. Echizen looks stunned. Frozen. The racket clatters to the ground.

A few shots after that and he looks dead, as dead as the grave, as the weeds that were pulled out from his mother so long ago. You wave that thought away, but the words remain with you.

_People change, Keigo._

Echizen. You stare at this boy and you want to have him. You see him in this dead state, and you have seen him in his confusion. You have seen him venerable; you have seen what he would give to everyone, including you. You want more.

You want everything; it was in your nature. And right now, you want to have him, no matter what the costs.

And you see him go up to the limits that were the highest of any tennis player.

--

Tennis is not the art of calculating. It is suppose to be tennis, just tennis. Tennis, how it sounds, rough and brittle, fast and furious, never stopping to pause.

Tennis was Echizen Ryoma.

Echizen Ryoma was, is, will be tennis.

--

Seigaku won.

You notice Echizen and Yukimura touch hands hesitantly. You would have thought that Echizen might have scoffed at this so-called Child of God, but Echizen is staring at Yukimura intently; Yukimura is letting a fragile smile grace over his lips, and it is soon gone. You knew that Echizen would have won. You know that you will defeat him someday. Today would not be it.

You turn away and call your driver; you will not see Seigaku take on the trophy that would have been yours had not Echizen appeared out of thin air. You do not want to meet Echizen. You do not want to see his eyes and you do not want him to see you and read you. They both knew each other too well from all the well-practiced silence, and you do not want that silence right now.

--

"Keigo," your mother is sipping a glass of wine and you do not look up from your dinner, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, "You've changed."

You pause slightly at this sudden announcement and resume your earlier activity a moment later. "Have I?" you inquire, and you still do not look up to meet your mother's eyes. It was as if you were seeing your own.

There is a small laugh and a shake of your mother's head. "Boys," she says fondly, but you do not answer back. You know you have changed, and you know who has changed you.

--

"America."

Tezuka's voice is as steady as ever when he nods and confirms it. "Ah."

You hate that voice right now. "He will be going to America. Just like that. Just like how he suddenly appeared out of the air." You shake your head, and your face is about to lose your mask. "He's going to go back."

"He has done what he could here." Tezuka's eyes glint from the light; you will not think Tezuka was losing his façade as well. "It is time for him to move on. Become someone better. Become…." The voice wavers. You do not take heed.

"Did you tell him that?" you snap, and Tezuka looks at you in surprise; he has never seen you in this state, but you do not bother hiding your emotions, not this time, "Did you tell him to place his talent elsewhere now? Did you tell him to become the pillar of the world? Did you—"

"Atobe," Tezuka says sharply, but you are almost to the brink of helplessness, something you have never felt before, you edge closer to Tezuka and fist his shirt, looking into those brown eyes, the eyes of a rival and a friend.

"Did you tell him to go and achieve the Grand Slam and meet you halfway for the tournaments while you aim for your own achievements in Germany?" you hiss low, and Tezuka's eyes widen. There is only harsh breathing from either side. It may not be the truth, but you know that Tezuka had been thinking that thought, one way or the other. You let go. You can't handle this, you won't.

"His flight is tomorrow." Tezuka's voice is a bit shaky when he says this, and you stay silent. "Atobe. He'll be back." Someday. You do not know when that someday will be.

"I don't care," you throw over your shoulder, and you walk away from him.

It is the biggest lie you have ever said.

--

The next one is the last part, yes I am sure of it or I am going to cry it will be out of my hands. 

I really hoped I convinced everyone why a do like royal pair so much and what makes them work…..it does ( besides the fact that they're all oh-so-hot together.

I wanted to write an essay for this , but whenever I DO think of them together my mind is like, OH GOD MMMMMM HOTNESS and ())&(&&#$#$$&&. It stops after that, so I did the next best thing, writing a story for it. Be awed by my insanity XD

I just have to keep them pure on this one OH GOD (face palms) but it seems like part three is just begging for the tension to break, and oh GOD.

Will refresh my mind by working on my other school load for a change 


	10. 10: Obssession Part 3

Sorry I'm late in posting this—school starting and everything—it could really drive a woman mad :DDDDD

Thank you for all the reviews—I really love you all! 

Note: There is a sequel to this part, and no this is not the end, since I did promise lemon in this story, only that won't be today. I have the plot yes, but right now I'm a bit lazy to plan it all out. XDDDD

--

He blinks at you, and his hands loosen from his cat, which almost makes the creature fall to the floor. He catches it just in time and he still stares at you. "Monkey King."

You scowl, something you haven't done in a long time, and you will not admit it being good, the freedom to express how you felt. "Don't call me that."

Echizen doesn't answer back at that request, his face is a mixture of surprise and more surprise, and those two surprises are a different kind. You don't know how to interpret either one.

"How did you know?" he finally utters, as if he couldn't believe you were actually there.

"Tezuka," you say simply, and Echizen nods slowly. He is wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans with no trace of his trademark cap on his head, comfortable enough for his long flight. You are wearing your school uniform, as it was a last minute decision in coming here.

The silence is a stifling one in the middle of a bustling airport. You are here in favor of school, something you have never done before since school was something that was always the top priority in your life, including tennis, but Echizen seemed to put you in a position doing things that has never been done by you before.

This silence was a different one from all the others because the air between them was silent as well, and there is no communication between them. Echizen looks awkward, almost like the time inside the helicopter, as if he isn't sure how to interpret you being there. You choose to break this. 

"Congratulations," you say to him then, your voice an even tone, "On your win in the finals."

Echizen allows a smirk at this and he inclines his head. "Hm."

You have to roll your eyes at his arrogance, but it doesn't bother you anymore, not like it used to; it was a part of him after all, something you couldn't change, something you wouldn't dream of changing. "Perhaps I could understand what Tezuka saw in you back then." 

"Took you a long time to find out, huh?" His smirk grows bigger; he crouches down and sets his cat on the ground, his eyes still not leaving yours. "You should have accepted my challenge. At the street courts. It would have saved us the trouble."

You raise an eyebrow at that. "You're still not all that good though," you feel it is your duty to inform him of this, although this is not the truth, not really. "You still have lots to work on." 

His eyes are full of laughter, yet you don't feel as if they're laughing at you. "Do I?"

"Ahn." You return his gaze and there and then, you want to say so many things to him, things that could not be expressed in words, but you try to anyways. You hold out your hand.

They are not equals, but you could pretend to be.

His smirk falls off and his eyes take on the shocked look again. Then it is gone, as he recovers and gives out a small laugh, taking your hand, clasping it with his own. You touch his hand and it gives you the thrill, the fire from that day, from that match. You have never touched him before. It was your eyes, always your eyes trailing him, and touching him feels like something to be savored, like a good Latin book, not wanting to go to the very last page because it'll end soon. Only that what they have between them, this something, will not end. You will not allow that.

"Our match," is what he says, and here he pauses, feeling the words of our match roll off his tongue, then he is laughing in a breathless laugh, "Our match. You could have won it." 

You tilt your head and observe him silently, wondering what has made him suddenly so modest and speak that up. It was something you knew, something you both knew. It was something that didn't need to be said, yet this boy was here, saying it right now, a sentence that would have been more suitable had it come out of Tezuka's lips. A second later you also know that this was far from modesty, that Echizen would never be modest, he was just speaking the truth; it was a match that pushed them over to the best of their limits, it was tennis, pure and simple. You had tasted the feel of tennis, and this you both know as well.

"Next time," you stare intently into those eyes and they are hazel, only that to you they will always look like gold, the color he had used to hate as a child, because it looked very untouchable, "Next time, I will win it." You are saying this to reassure that there will be a next time. He confirms it by not letting go of your hand; their grip tightens painfully but you don't care. 

" Next time, " and his eyes are taking on a promise, that he will give you this feeling again, and he promises you the prospect of a challenge, " Next time, it would be my win, fair and square." He lets go, but his eyes are not, as if he is trying to remember who you might be to him, and you feel strange yet you are doing the same to him, absorbing him in; they had never studied each other so openly before, not since their match, always a fleeting of a glance or a curve of a smirk, and something is there, something, but this was a something you cannot comprehend. 

"Atobe." 

Your name sounds smooth on his lips and you snap back to reality; he breaks the eye-contact, he is already turning away. It is the first time he calls you by your name.

"Thanks."

For the match. For the challenge. For the things that existed between us. For the match. For the memory. 

This he does not say and you do not ask. You know why he is saying this to you, and you know what you want to say back to him, but you push this all down in the back of your mind. Someday, you will tell him. Someday, and now would not be the time. You look at his retreating back and you think—

_There are some things that cannot even be said, even in your mind._

You shake your head in exasperation, and your hand goes to feel your hair. "You better win," is what you tell him last; sometimes, it was just better to say it. 

He doesn't look back at you, but you know he is smirking as he walks away.

--

High school is nothing like middle school. You are still the arrogant boy that everyone respects you to be. You are the captain of your tennis team again. You are a favorite candidate for the school president next year. You ace in all your studies and your father is observing your successes almost proudly, saying that you'll be a fine CEO one day. Your mother's glances are growing frequent now, and you are always reading.

Yet you also turn on the TV everyday and watch him play in the US Open, and you stare intently at the screen hours after it all ends. You see him through this and you rewind it over and over again, and you think of all the things you could have been, what he could have been—what they could have both been together. It is not middle school where you think Tezuka is the only worth opponent beating, and that someone loses their value when they are once defeated, yourself included. You are older now, and you still see him, tennis, and you think that the world is not that easy, it is not just a boundary between two things. 

_I want you. And I will have you. _

--

When you are about to go up to your final year in high school, one winter day, your phone is buzzing during practice. You frown and pick it up and the frown disappears abruptly and your eyes widen.

'Monkey King. Let's have a match.'

It does not say who it is from, but only one person would be so arrogant and bold to dare lower your presence. Your face carves into a smile, something you haven't done for a long time.

--

He is there, by the street courts where you first met each other. You make your strides look casual, but inside, inside you are just a bundle of anticipation, the chance to see him, up close, and this is when he turns around and sees you. 

He does not say anything and neither do you. But the way you both positions your rackets and the way you both try to drown each other with your eyes, it is enough.

He hands you the ball, and you serve. 

--

It would be much later that you will act on this wild impulse to kiss him, and it would be much, much later when you will bed him, but when their fingers brush against each other after the match, you think you might be able to foresee this moment. Echizen catches your eye and he doesn't let the smirk waver, but his eyes are holding the same passion inside, the passion you always loved to see, fire. 

This is what you have right now, and it would have to be enough. 

Fin ( for now!)

:DDDD There IS a next part to this, because this story was suppose to have all the main events in high school, only I got a little carried away. Oh , joy.

I'm not sure when that next part will be posted, because I'm working on a different story right now—the one I'll be posting next time. 

Just a little preview:

He first meets him in the hallway.

There's nothing to observe out of the boy; he looks like all the freshmen milling around the corridor, with his white shirt uniform tucked inside his trousers, his Hyotei tie hanging loosely around his neck and his bag hung over his shoulders. He looks like himself, and he was about to ask the boy what class he was in, if only to point out that the boy looked like an idiot standing in the middle of the hallway, when their eyes meet.

The words he were about to say fly out of his mind. The boy's eyes are the color of gold.

--

"Let's play a match." Keigo challenges him into a stare. Ryoma doesn't seem to be affected by this, raising an eyebrow as he takes out his math book for the next class. 

"No," Ryoma says simply, and Keigo could tell that he was serious, with no trace of his usual smirk. Keigo grits his teeth. 

"Play me." 

"No."

Keigo snatches the math book out of Ryoma's hands. Ryoma doesn't react to it, but he still won't meet his eyes. 

"Today. Play me." He knows his voice is a harsh tone, and he knows he might be acting like a spoiled child, but he needed to play Ryoma, because Ryoma was the only one worth playing in the tennis club and he was the only one who was the same level as Keigo, and there could be no equals, not inside this tennis club.

Ryoma knows this, and perhaps this is the reason why those hazel eyes look colder. 

--

This is an AU, where Ryoma is the same age as Keigo and they're both attending Hyotei middle school, with Keigo form England and Ryoma from America.

Oh, didn't I say that this is my secret kink:D I want them to speak in English together and I want them to snark at each other in a more comfortable atmosphere. Not to mention Konomi sensei wanted this scene, I swear, otherwise why would he say that Atobe went to a school in ENGLAND!

Me and my imaginations :D


	11. 11: Untitled

Before my AU, I whipped this up in 30min, on a whim IN THE NIGHT

Before my AU, I whipped this up in 30min, on a whim IN THE NIGHT.

I am delusional. All the school crap is getting into me OTL

And this is un-betaed. This was on a whim. A WHIM. I don't know what I was trying to prove here ( facepalms)

This is what Keigo thinks of Ryoma.

He's this twisted version of Tezuka (not that he wants to compare his boyfriend with Tezuka, no that was weird), someone who loves tennis but with a different aspect. Ryoma likes tennis because it meant that was one more thing to prove he was better than other people. Tezuka played tennis for the sheer pleasure it gave him, and he played it like it was this serious form of art which had a certain process. It was perfect and he was the one that perfected it, encouraging others to do the same.

Ryoma played it to beat everyone else and eventually his father.

He remembered Ryoma saying he used to play basketball once (leading to a snipe about Ryoma's height in the process) and he knows, like he did then, Ryoma wouldn't have cared what it was he had to pursue to beat his opponent, you just beat him to it and be done with it. He was simple-minded in that way, in every way, and Keigo can't figure out if this endeared him or not.

Then there's the time when they have these frequent kisses and make out sessions.

Normally, he wouldn't lower himself to kiss his (dare he say it?) lover out in some secluded place as if it was a sin and a temptation, but it was somehow always the exception of Ryoma, always with that kid. He should feel annoyed; he really should, except he had long given up with that kind of pointless pondering.

Ryoma's hands would dig his shoulder blades when they kiss, and it's like a dance, a fiery dance, fluttering of lust and heat and god forbid more, Ryoma's breath hitching past his ear and hands tugging in his hair painfully, but really, he doesn't mind. Then there's Ryoma, whispering more,more,more and more kisses and hands, hands, hands; there is also tongue against tongue and he drives Ryoma up further against the wall, trying to drown the both of them in. More, he gives him more, and he doesn't stop.

There isn't a future for the both of you, there's also no past for the both of you; there is only now, and the future be damned, they both know this. This was a something that would be cherished in the present form, only here and only now.

Echizen Ryoma was a twisted little thing, and God help him, so was he.

This is what Ryoma thinks of Keigo.

He was annoying, always pursuing him. He was downright annoying, him and his money. He was more so annoying, him and his perfectness. Need he say more?

He was also alive with a certain something Ryoma wants to destroy.

Keigo was someone who Ryoma had hated as a kid, someone boastful of their many victories and acclaims, someone who thought the world was beneath them. Here was where Keigo stood, and he thought Keigo might, just , just might be like his father, eyes twinkling down at him, telling him he wouldn't be enough to get past that damn ball, not enough not enough not enough. And this is why he can't define what he exactly felt for Atobe Keigo.

There's the older boy's hand digging his wrists. There's this furious whisper against his ear, _Mine_, and it was an absolution, not giving him a right to choose, only follow. Then there was Keigo, pressing up to him and demanding him his mouth, all bothered and hot, and he obliges. And it would be another flurry of their passion of something later both of them would deny, and there would be no promises between them afterwards, only this uncertain hanging of, later and maybe. He doesn't know why he isn't more bothered. Maybe he is and he's just trying to hide it, but that was a lie, he isn't bothered, he knows that this was just a phrase, like basketball. So this is why he doesn't react to Keigo's whims and just plays along. It's much easier that way.

"Your hair's grown longer," Keigo murmurs lazily, shifting his pillow into a more comfortable position and reaching out to finger one of Ryoma's locks. Ryoma doesn't pull away for once, using his tiredness as an excuse.

"Hm." It wasn't needed to reply, he know that, only it felt good, reminding someone that he was here, the low rumble inside his throat. Keigo's lips form a small smirk, his fingers twining against his hair, and he strokes it, softly.

He doesn't ask what Keigo was doing; he just closes his eyes and falls back to slumber again. Whatever whim the boy had, he always played along with it, whether it was furious or gentle, possessive of indifference, he learned to accept every aspect of their relationship.

This was what they had, and this was what they had now.


	12. 12: Change Part 1

This is a dialogue only story. Repeat, DIALOGUE ONLY. INTENDED.

…..Call this my little experiment.

I like Tezuka, yes, but he needs to loosen up a little. Plus, too many fangirls like him a little too much. :D I do love Tezuka but I still need an excuse to write some fics :D

….Is it just me, or are my fics becoming lame? OTL I should have known better than to post them up where all the public could see them.

Thank for the reviews, oh faithful one :D. You know who you are :D

--

"You did not say what I think you said."

"Oh? Scared already?"

"This has nothing to do with fear, monkey king."

"Really? If I had known that you were such a coward back then, I wouldn't have—"

"Cut the crap, _Atobe._ You know I don't play anymore."

"You don't participate in the matches, yes. Is that the only time you had been willing to play?"

"Yes—"

"Because from what I recall, you seemed pretty content lounging in the street courts and challenging me to a match."

"That was along time ago."

"That was two years ago."

"Oh really? How time flies."

"One thing that we could agree on I'm sure—"

"Don't you have someone else to bother?"

"—and would you mind not interrupting me while I am talking?"

"Oh, yes, how inconsiderate of me. I must be the only one who actually has the brains to cut out the crap you're influencing onto me right now."

"You would be happy to know that no one would dare."

"Yes, well, people would dare to, if they find your presence unflattering to the point when they can't ignore you."

"So you're willing?"

"_No._"

"Strange Echizen, because just last year, I remember our positions being reversed."  
"Yes, well, time changes people."

"Like it did to you?"

"Like it did to _you_, you mean. Who would have thought you lowered your standards up to the point of chasing me down?"

"I do not do chasing downs, excuse me—"

"How did you find out my address anyways?"

"……………"

"See? Stalking. For a match, really? "

"You wouldn't know the term stalking even if it landed straight into your face."

"Oh?"

"One rally isn't going to cause someone hurt, Echizen. You could go on hating the sport you know you love deep inside, after this match. Consider it your last then."

"No, see, you're avoiding my question. A match. Why would you, Atobe Keigo, want a match with me in the first place?"

"And is this something I should answer?"

"No, don't bother. I already know."

"Of course you would, it seems to me that suddenly you know everything there is about-"

"Tezuka sent you, didn't he?"

"—what revolves around your life nowadays and—what?"

"He sent you, didn't he? My dear old captain sent me here because he doesn't know how to read me and he thinks you can,"

"Hmm."

"See? It seems maybe I do know some things."

"Some things, true. You know, I think I preferred the silent version of the Echizen Ryoma."

"Touché. "

"Well, it can't be said I did try."

"Yes you did. And now, get the hell out of my house."

--

"Moshi-moshi"

"Momoshiro-senpai."

"Aa? Oh?OH. Echizen?! Is that you?"

"It could be."

"Hey now don't be a – ah well, wait, you never call on a –"

"Did you tell Atobe my home address?"

"Eh?"

"I know you heard me."

"Erm…"

"Because he can't suddenly burst into my front door and suddenly demand for a match I know we both don't want. Buchou really is desperate, isn't he?"

"Wait, Echizen--:

"When I said I wanted to do nothing with tennis, I meant _nothing_. Including Hyotei and their weird captain. I mean it. Tell _him_ to stop this."

"Look, Echizen—wait, Ryoma!!"

--

"I think he hates me."

"And why would he?"

"I…I don't know. That's the thing."

"And?"

"Fuji, I wasn't here. I don't know, maybe you should."

"I should, shouldn't I?"

"Fuji."

"Ma, ma, don't blame me for minding my own business, Tezuka. I was ...busy."

"Busy?"

"Oh, you know, School, tennis, Yuuta, the usual."

"Fuji."

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to buy that."

"Oh no?"

"You know something."

"Yes, maybe I do."

"Then tell me—"

"Some things are just not meant to be said out of my lips though."

--

"I don't play anymore."

"Echizen."

"I…….. look, Tezuka-senpai, I don't play anymore."

"……..Why?"

" Maybe I grew up. Did that occur to you?"

"Tennis was you. You…were—"

"Tennis?"

"…………….."

"Well, maybe they was something more than tennis."

"Echize—"

"Look, senpai. What you know of me was…a long time ago. I changed."

"Does this have something to do with your father?"

"..What would it have anything to do with the old man?"

"He died—"

"Don't put him into this; it never had anything to do with him in the first place."

"………….."

"Good luck on the nationals, Tezuka-buchou."

--

"Look, mamushi, you know that Echizen—"

"I know idiot, not so loud—"

"Tezuka-buchou is getting tense, you know, so why—"

"Baka, you know as well so why do I—"

"Oh, so I have to be the—"

"Maybe it'll just be all right if you could shut the –"

"Oh, so you want a –"

"Is there a problem?"

"No."

"No, Buchou."

--

"……Why are you here again?"

"And hello to you too, Echizen. Very feisty kitten you have here."

"That's Karupin you're holding. Give it back. And why are you here? Answer the damn question."

"Well, someone seems to be happy today."

"Atobe, it's seven in the morning. On a freaking Sunday. Maybe I need my sleep."

"You certainly look like you need some."

"Yes, so get lost."

"Funny, you don't even get up early to play tennis anymore so why—"

"Don't start that again."

"Start what?"

"..Look, if this is about the last time with you and your match—"

"No it isn't, strangely enough. Some things Tezuka might need to see for himself."

"How nice of you to take sides."

"Of course, be awed—"

"Stuff it. Tell me why you're here."

"Should there be a reason?"

"…We're not the best of buddies_, Atobe-san_."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

--

"…Echizen."

"…………………"

"Echizen!!"

"Damn it Echizen, stop avoiding me!!"

--

"Echizen?"

" I need to see your captain."

"And is there a reason--?"

"Oshitari, just send him in."

"Ah

…………………………………_Ah."_

"…You're an idiot."

"You, even more so."

--

" Fuji, don't you think we should tell him?"

"Whatever for? Ignorance is bliss after all."

"Fuji, but still—"

"Or maybe not. Maybe we should tell him how he so effectively destroyed Echizen without really meaning to. That would be nice."

"Fuji, don't speak it like that. It wasn't like that."

"Really. Then tell me what it was."

"It wasn't his fault, he wanted what was best for Echizen—"

"Really, and so this was all Echizen's doing."

"…………."

"….Oishi, maybe Tezuka didn't plan it out, but he's not God."

"I did not—"

"You imply it, you think it. Tezuka knows the best, he know what we don't. Maybe he doesn't. "

"He didn't mean it to happen."

"Saaaaa, maybe I know that, but I guess I'm tired of that simple excuse."

--

"Maybe I don't know why you're here."

"Maybe you do."

"I do?"

"Maybe you know better than anyone else you're talking shit."

"Language Echizen, language."

"Oh, yes, and since when were you so moral enough to tell me of my faults?"

"Is there a reason why you are here?"

"We both know why."

"We do? Or you do?"

"We."

"And suddenly, you seem to know what I want as well? Very philosophical of you, Echizen."

"Heh."

--

"_See, he's that kid."_

"_Who? Him? "_

"_Yes, him. The Seigaku's little pillar."_

"_Oh, that one. Funny, you would have thought Tezuka would have left something more worthy."_

"_Let's see what he could do."_

_--_

"Ryoma-kun?"

"Ryoma-sama!"

"Oi! Echizen!"

--

"You know as well, don't you?"

"Ahn? What are you talking about?"

"This, Echizen. Why Echizen quit tennis, why….this everything."

"Maybe the brat got bored, Tezuka. Is that all?"

"……Atobe."

"…………..He got bored is all. Tired, maybe."

"Tired? Of tennis? Why—"

"Tezuka, ask him. And to think you would take an advice. Wonders of all wonders."

"No, tell me. Why would he get tired of this? Tennis was him."

"..Was, Tezuka, was. Not anymore. "

--

" You want me."

"And aren't you such the arrogant one."

"Heh. You always wanted what was his. Tezuka's, I mean."

"And since when have you got into this genius conclusion?"

"You are one twisted person. Maybe you shouldn't deny it."

"So are you, even more so."

--

"Tezuka called yesterday."

"Hm."

"Or maybe it was a few days back, I can't seem to—"  
"Maybe I don't care?"

"Your captain's been worried about you."  
"He's not my captain anymore."  
"Was. He was."  
"He shouldn't be worried. I'm fine."

" The last two years could only be defined anything but fine, Echizen."

"Not his business."  
"Maybe he's worried about you and not your tennis, hm?"

"Don't act as if you know—"

"But I do, remember?"

"….I hate you."

"I assure you, the feeling is mutual."

--

"_So are you better than the legendary Tezuka?"_

"…_Maybe you need to find out for yourself."_

"_Cute, real cute. So you're trying to be your captain? The Seigaku's next pillar? Please."_

"_Shut up and serve."_

_--_

"_Hey Echizen, where are you going? We won, Echizen! We won!"_

_--_

"_Hey , see him? That's the brat. The Tezuka wanna-be."_

"_Thinks himself so arrogant doesn't he?"_

"_Thinks he could actually be better than Tezuka, hah!"_

"_Do you think?"_

"_Of course not!"_

"…_.Of course."_

_--_

"_What are you—"_

_--_

"You seem to be here every day now. High school boring you?"

"Frankly, yes."

"Then maybe you should resume—"

"No."

"Ah. Well then. What do you want from me?"

"I think you have the wrong question."

"Ahn?"

"The question is: what do you want from _me_?"

"………..Nicely put. Cute, even."

"Heh. You're not denying it."

--

"Echizen, we need to talk."

"Now you even, Fuji-senpai?"

"Echizen."

"No, maybe I don't want to, did that occur to you?"

"Yes, but unfortunately, you don't have a choice."

"And when did I ever?"

"Echizen—no wait, Ryoma."

"Don't, Fuji-senpai. I really don't care."

"I know about last year—"

"Yes, and I don't care."

--

"_Stopstopstopstopstopstopstopstop—"_

_--_

"Echizen! What the hell are you doing?! Echizen!!—"

--

And, what might this be?:D

This is the story of me pretending to hate Tezuka and writing this insane story where everyone grows up like this kids THEY ARE SUPPOSE TO BE. Sheesh.

. The AU is coming along nicely, just check my profile if you want to read it; it's not going to be posted up on "Life goes On"

…….Or maybe I'll just write it for my own sheer pleasure and just lock it up?;; Er.

I'm having mixed feeling about my writing because I don't expect all these reviews to pour out on me but it gets confusing( and yes, annoying) if I get alerted that people add my story into their alerting but don't leave any reviews for it. So is my story crap or not? --;;;

Ah well. Not saying I'm not appreciating the reviews I am getting though


	13. 13: Funeral

Lol This was something of a dream I had yesterday and I had to write it

Lol This was something of a dream I had yesterday and I had to write it?

It was at Echizen Najiroh's funeral when Tezuka noticed.

"Let him be," was what Atobe said to Momoshiro when Echizen suddenly turned away after the funeral ritual had ended, his pace striding quickly towards the house. It was Momoshiro who was about to follow his lead and Tezuka himself who wanted to act on his own impulse, to try to comfort Echizen in his own way and perhaps make the younger man feel better. Yet it was Atobe who stopped all of them from actually acting it out, but what made Tezuka actually pause and look at Atobe was the way he phrased the sentence. It wasn't said with scorn; rather it was said with a hint of mildness that indicated that Atobe knew something and the others didn't. Tezuka didn't even know why Atobe was there; he wasn't a person that could relate to Echizen, only that they were school rivals and nothing more and even that couldn't count as an excuse anymore since they all graduated high school two years ago.

Momoshiro blinked at Atobe for a split moment, then at Echizen's disappearing figure. Then, there was this small snap in his voice that Tezuka had yet to hear out of Momoshiro before; Momoshiro may be aggressive and he may be loud, but he wasn't a person to get sharp-tongued at somebody. "He needs us."

At this Atobe raised one eyebrow, meeting Momoshiro's eyes without hesitation. "He doesn't. Not even you Tezuka," he added in tiredly, as if he could read his mind. He remained stoic to it all.

"He needs somebody," Oishi insisted, glancing at where Echizen had gone, inside his house, perhaps not daring to come out ever again. "We can't leave him in there like—"

"He wouldn't want you to see him cry."

At this both Oishi and Momoshiro shut their mouths abruptly and an uncomfortable silence fell. Tezuka noticed Atobe's gaze flickering over to Echizen's house with a sense of tiredness around him, but it was soon gone.

"I'll go," is what Atobe said, with a small sigh, before Momoshiro could argue that who the heck was Atobe of all people to comfort Echizen when he didn't barely know him, " Wouldn't what the brat to commit emotional suicide," is what Tezuka heard before Atobe walked away.

What was so eerie about it was that it was as of Atobe knew Echizen beside all their interaction from tennis. It was as if Atobe knew Echizen period.

--

Echizen was standing in the middle of the living room, his black suit covering his stiff body, his black locks covering his face and his eyes those unreadable hazel orbs.

Atobe sighed and strolled over to where Echizen was standing. "At least you're not sobbing away yet."

"What do you take me for a fucking girl?" With this Echizen sharply turned away from him and ran his fingers through his hair.

Atobe rolled his eyes. "It happened once before."

"Yes do remind he of that particular incident when my father is rolling over his grave right now," Echizen snapped, his voice lingering at the word "grave". Then there was a sharp intake of breath. "He wasn't supposed to die." The voice cracked." He's not supposed to die."

Atobe sighed. "I know."

"No you don't."

"I could pretend to, if it pleases you, o mighty one."

Echizen chocked on what Atobe assumed to be a laugh or a sob. "Fuck you."

"Sex right after a funeral? Isn't that disrespecting the dead?"

At this Echizen did laugh; a thin croaky laugh veiled to hide his pain. "My old man could do with a bit of disrespecting."

"How endearing of you." Atobe reached for him and Echizen didn't protest when Atobe hand reached out to brush his arm lightly. "Your former teammates are worried about you."

"And you came here?"

"And prevented them from entering this house. You should thank me."

"You're an idiot."

"As are you."

Silence fell after that and Echizen shifted; his eyes a bit remorseful as he met Atobe's eyes. Atobe held his arm lightly and Echizen leaned into the touch and let his head fall on Atobe's shoulders. His breathing was uneven, a harsh sound breaking the air around them.

"He wasn't supposed to die," Echizen whispered; Atobe felt Echizen's own shoulders trembling and he wrapped his arms around the smaller man.

"I know," Atobe whispered back, and he really did know.

--

This was the scene Tezuka saw and he didn't confront either of them about it, although he was pretty sure something inside his body had just shriveled up and died.


	14. 14: Conquer

They could have conquered the world someday, he thinks mildly, with a touch of humor

They could have conquered the world someday, he thinks mildly, with a touch of humor. Because both of them were too aggressive for their own good and both of them were selfish bastards who had to achieve what they wanted. It wasn't really about tennis per sec, it was about the challenge they both held, the potential each of them possessed and the superiority they were not willing to give up.

Mostly it was about pride. The pride to become the best, and this was why they always fought.

He learned pride from his father. He learned at a young age that he was going to rule over the world in some way or the other, and he was going to meet many people that were going to rule it with him. He needed his pride for that, and also his name, but his pride more.

Echizen was born with his pride, just like he was born with everything he was natural at, including tennis, although Echizen insisted it had something to do with holding a racket at the age of one. He had this atmosphere of arrogance that Atobe felt only he needed to master, only that Echizen pulled it much better of than he did. That alone would have made him hate the boy enough to destroy him.

They met on the tennis courts, although such details weren't so important now. What was important was that they could have conquered the world. He with his wealth, Echizen with his passion and his wit. People would hate them, despise them but they couldn't overrule them. They could have—

They were a lot of couldn'ts and ifs and maybes on how the world was suppose to revolve. He wasn't about to start.

--

The walk to the grave—his grave—was uneventful, just like it was suppose to be, just like it had been for the past three years. He didn't know why he bothered anymore; it wasn't as if Echizen was going to come back anytime soon or it wasn't as if Echizen was going to free him, even. He trudged here once a month or even more, if he felt emotional and melodramatic enough. His footsteps echoed across the silent graveyard but he didn't take heed as he passed by all the other graves, until he reached his destination.

He supposed he came back here because Echizen was actually someone that made him feel too much.

He didn't bring any flowers. Echizen would have flung them back at him anyway.

He stood in front of the tombstone. The name engraved on it didn't make him feel like he was about to die himself anymore; maybe that was a start.

"I should stop doing this." He mutters this to the silent air, imagining Echizen's cold body inside the ground, sleeping, resting—not moving. He clenches his fists.

"I can't do this anymore. Obsessing about the dead. You would have laughed at me if you weren't the one actually dead," he continues, his hands stuffed inside his pockets, his eyes flickering back and forth form the sky and to the tombstone.

"I'm getting engaged next year. Time to move on, wouldn't you say?"

He paused and he couldn't help it; he gave out a bitter laugh. It wrapped around him even after he finished chuckling. "Although I don't know why I'm telling you this; you never seemed to care what I was doing most of the time."

That wasn't true he knew; Echizen had this annoying was of hiding whatever he was feeling, only that he had gotten better at reading the boy.

Boy. Echizen had been just a boy.

Atobe turned away; he should move on. This was why he came here, to end this. He couldn't cry now, not that he ever did, even when the funeral took place years ago. He did remember getting drunk and waking up with a sore headache though.

"You know," he plunged on, closing his eyes; he remembers Echizen moments before his death, hazel eyes cold at him and snarling _I hate you I hate you I hate you—_

_So do I,_ was what he shouted back then, _I hate the fact that you are this kid who can't grow up to even face the world as it is—do you think tennis would actually solve everything, You have no idea how I wish I never met you—_

Echizen made him feel too many things. Things he couldn't handle back then; things he could handle now, as a man.

And he thinks he could hear the screech of the car clearly, as if it had been yesterday. And he thinks he could see Echizen's eyes not widening in horror in the moments of his death, but still cold, staring at him as blood spurted everywhere; he remembers trying to scream but with no words coming out of him, just his heart, tearing apart as he watched Echizen fall.

He doesn't remember the rest. It wasn't important, just like it wasn't important when it was they first met.

"…….I love you."

And he has to laugh again at that, the laugh sharp and trying to forget the sound of that awful screech. "I wish I didn't, but I love you."

He let his fingers reach out and touch the cold tombstone, tracing the name _Echizen Ryoma_. "I love you," he whispered it again. Just in case Echizen didn't hear it, and he heard his voice rip.

It had been three years. This wasn't supposed to happen. But then, Echizen dying in some stupid car crash wasn't supposed to happen too.

"Ryoma." The name sounded too familiar to him, for someone who had been dead for so long. It haunted him in his dreams, dying over and over again, and he woke up every time, not crying but sweating, the name coming out between screams.

It would be the last time. This time, he had to move on.

His fingers let go. The tombstone would always be cold.

"But I have to forget." Now his voice was steady, just like the voice when it issued out business deals and decisions. "I need to forget and move on."

Yet he turns away, and his footsteps are bitter because he knows he'll be here next month, if not sooner.

When he looks back on it, he might have hated Echizen then because he reminded of himself in too many ways, and he was afraid that he might be better at everything his father had brought him up for.

Echizen had made him feel, one of the traits his father did not encourage him to act upon.

--

They could have conquered this world and more, only if they stopped to think back on everything.

He still could, but there wasn't a motive strong enough to.

AN: I like about this relationship is that they have this something between them, but I can't really define it. With FujiRyo it's thrill and with Tezuryo it's this pillar business, but with Atobe and Ryoma I felt something between them during their match but I couldn't really describe it. They have this something that could go off any moment and they're afraid of this bomb, of this feeling. And they avoid it like the idiots both of them are before it's too late. And that's why it makes me want to write about them.

And before I forget, I would like to thank all the reviewers, especially Pax Silva and abhorsen3. :D

And Chances, I know the plot seems confusing and too much as crassreine pointed out, but I actually intended this to happen because that wasn't all of it. All in good time, I promise.

And I will tell you when I finish with the AU of Keigo and Ryoma in the same year in HYOTEI and kinking their way into the nationals. They can so conquer the world together. :D


	15. 15 : Real

-

-

If anyone is wondering where the "Porn" chapter (the original 15th one-shot) is gone, I deleted it since it was kind of inappropriate. I thought so anyhow. So the rating is back to T Yay?

So this is another one-shot. If anyone wants a cheery insane AtoRyo, that's a one-shot and rated M ( This was to make up for the last two chapters when I killed off the Echizens ) please notify me and I'll send you the fic. Sorry about that !

And this, is….er……well.

He is something. He is something that couldn't be defined in this vague sense of law. He is something to him, and he really, really, shouldn't. He is—

--tennis. The ball is moving fast and spectators can't really see it, fuck, even he can't really capture the ball for a bare second but he can still see the smirk on the other boy's face, bastard, he was going to wipe that arrogance off, he was going to win, to win to—

--lose. Life can't really be about one ball and two rackets. We need to move on. And his eyes look troubled but it's this determined aura, and he could never refuse him, not even now. But he doesn't want to look into his face, because he is standing there looking so beautiful in this sense that is neither masculine nor feminine, just beautiful in a sense that even he could not explain, and he curses himself a fool. Sighs and puts a hand over his eyes, he really couldn't see those gold eyes, he couldn't. He can't—

--forget. He tries to, he really does, but he can't forget about how those eyes had looked down on him once and they looked so warm and so convincing, and they were this color that was the ocean or the sky, what was the difference, he just wanted to see those eyes again. And he is tossing and turning, and he remembers too many things he thought he had forgotten, like how the one time they went out to watch the fireworks and they kissed afterwards, and how _he_ was the only one who made him laugh, _he_ was the one who was as close to understanding him as anyone ever could. He thinks this and he remembers those grey-blue eyes but he can't cry. He wants to—

--feel, Feel in a sense that made him feel confused, like the boy had made him, this feeling that left him in the middle if a hurricane. Feel in a sense that made him lose his mind and act like there wasn't a care in the world and he wanted to feel the fire again, the challenge they both issued themselves with. A silly thought, because it was suppose to be this game that was only to last until high school but both of them had fallen so hard to ever recover. His fiancée calls out to him but he ignores that sickening voice and he wants to throw up. He wants to hate that woman, he wants to hate his duty as his father's heir and his dreams are filled with—

--nothing. He feels nothing. Was he suppose to? This was who he had been before, this person who could always go wild.

Hey, he remembers a voice telling him in his dream. It is alluring and it is the voice from the past and he need to forget, fuck let me go, but the voice won't. Hey you know, remember us as a we? He shakes his head no, don't say it please, you can't say it, we can't. It's this unspoken rule between them, only the former King never stuck to the rules. And so he will say the words, I love—

--you. I like you. He really shouldn't be here, much less be saying these words to him after all these years. This wasn't where he was supposed to come and his voice is cracking right now but he had tried to forget. He had tried to move on, have sex with different girls but somehow, only one person had ever fully known what he was really worth and he was here. The other man looks stunned and he can't really blame him, he was the one who had called it quits. But this wasn't to say he wanted him back, this was a wedding day and he was just another guest, but he needs to say this. He stands firm. You weren't suppose to make this huge difference in my life but—

--it happened. It wasn't supposed to, but somehow we happened. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. Long ago he remembers confessing this to the boy in front of him, only to see those eyes widen and a sharp retort to bury it, stuff it, kill that feeling. He remembers, as a young teen who never had his feelings denied before (he was the idol, the King, the God), a feeling that was as if his heart had been ripped out. He remembers sex. He remembers kissing. And that was as far as they got. It was a game, it was nothing –

--more. What if I say I didn't forget, what if I said I waited for you, that I like you more, no I love you? He hears those words after so long and this makes him angry. He isn't supposed to hear that answer. He was supposed to be denied. This was what he came here for, on the day of this man's wedding, and here was the same arrogant bastard who turned his life into chaos, telling him about love and about us. As if there was a future for them. They were too different; love itself wasn't going to solve this. So what he shouts back is no you don't we don't know about love, but the other man shuts him up and kisses him again, in his black tux on the day of his wedding. He can't—

--do this. We're different. You need to rule over this world and I need to be a star. But now that excuse seems so feeble after a few rounds on the bed, as if they had never stopped. He smirks tiredly. I'm not going to be your whore. We need to move on. But he can't. He wouldn't have come here otherwise.

A heir is what I need. Only that. Please. He had never begged before, but here was he had wanted during his teenage years and as a man, here, this young man in front of him, and he is reduced to begging. Please wait for me, And he remembers a similar scene years ago, and he wants the answer to change and he wants the answer to be—

--okay. I'll try to.

What they both know is that they had tried to deny the inevitable.

Um. I really don't think this really will happen, and that their relationship is realistic in a sense, because they are two different people expect to do different things. Atobe is the heir to an empire and has been bought up to do this. Ryoma is this boy who will collapse the world with the only talent he knows. Yet I can't help but imagine, with the two of them, anything is possible.


	16. 16: He tastes of Tennis

He tastes if tennis

He tastes of tennis.

It's weird, if you think about it a little more carefully; mainly because you don't know what exactly tennis tastes like. Then you don't bother pondering over it because that's what he was; tennis, the heat that you felt whenever you played that game. You thread your fingers into his hair and it feels wild and silky and just so him that you grab up for more. He breaks away laughing a little, his warm breath ghosting over your mouth, his breath smelling faintly of musk and Ponta he drank earlier. You dive in for more because you need it, tennis, and the thought brushes past you again and he does taste of tennis, the heat you feel on a summer day.

You murmur his name like it was the only thing that mattered to you right now and he doesn't't respond but gives out this laugh that makes you warm inside, so warm like the warm summer heat. Too cheesy, you would be horrified later, also at the fact that you weren't suppose to feel this strong for a boy like him, but now you don't care, he is your world and you are his.

Tennis. Something that made you think the world wasn't black and white, something that made you the top of your game, something that you chose as your own free will and not your father's. Tennis, the heat of the passion, the promise of the thrill and for more and the opponent, panting away as you will drop in the last ball and the cheers, claiming you as the winner.

He feels so hot under you and you touch him; he gasps a little, and he tugs you into that heat but you resist a little before melting slowly, and your hips and his hips are rolling against each other. He gives out this deep pant and he make this _sound_, that sound which makes you hot and bothered yourself, so you grab his hair and clash his lips again. He gives in far more easily than you would have, and now there's only the sound of suckling and licking and more moaning. You don't give him a chance to breathe this time, and he pants more heavily, but you don't let him go, so he goes down, dragging you with him, and you plant small kisses on his lips when he tries to regain his breath. You need to taste him and you do, you don't tear yourself apart_, you can't_, you won't.

"Ryoma," you have to whisper again, and this time he looks into your eyes, really look into your eyes, and he give out this half tugged smile. He doesn't call your name, but he stares and you and touches you, his fingers fingering your face and you stare at him back. His lips are parted and it's bruised with all the kisses, but you still need to--

You smile at him then; a small, non-existent smile and you know that you can't, _you can't,_ but you already damned yourself too much, and with Echizen, it was always about the problem of damning yourself.

"I want you," you say that , and it's horrifying, at how low his voice would sound, at how cheesy and how it's this murmur, when it was all about sex and nothing more. That was how it was suppose to be, just like tennis was suppose to only be a game, a game between a winner and a loser. But now that can never be the case because Tezuka never lost to you, and you never lost to him in the first place, So you say that, and you expect him to laugh at you and the spell would be broken. He was just a game , just like tennis, and he is tennis, but now it's everything, he is everything to you, but you will not think about those things.

He doesn't laugh nor does he look away. He gives out that laugh again, the laugh you love so much, the laugh that make you think of warm winter days, the month he was born, and it make you think of blankets and warm snow, something that was impossible but he was the impossible.

"So have me," is what he murmurs right back, and he is close to you now, and you see his lips, the curve tugging away, and you feel him and he still holds you. "So have me. Keigo," he says your name, and you don't roll your eyes, but you do kiss him again.

Later you would bait him and later he would taunt you, but that was for later, when the spell would be broken. Now was not it.

Yes, I'm late posting this one, but only because I had to work on THIS fic, with girl! Ryoma (it's finished, by the way)

--

When he first sees what he is really, exactly, he considers it a bad dream and opts to fall asleep again, hopefully waking up in time for school and tennis practice. But his stupid dad just had to snap him back into the harsh reality that he had gotten himself into.

"Ryoma-chan!!You have--breasts?!"

He buries his head in his pillow and vows to live the rest of his life as a hermit.

His mom looks at him and comments he still looks like him minus the damn breasts.

--

AND Hyotei! Ryoma is finished as well. Wow, go me.

--

"So."

Ryoma smirks. "So."

"I'm going to win."

"Course you will. Captain," he adds in after a brief pause, but Keigo doesn't bite up to the bait.

"..Still, it's Tezuka."

"So? You're an Atobe."

Keigo smirks and he looks at Ryoma, his eyebrow raised. "Just because you played him—"

"Yeah, and beat the crap out him too," Ryoma grins a bit. Then he shrugs. "And he did too, I guess. But still. You'll win."

It's that quiet voice that makes Keigo think about at exactly why his eyes met with Ryoma's three years ago in those Hyotei hallways so long ago, and he has to smile at that thought. "And I'll win you. Later."

Ryoma rolls his eyes. "You won't."

"I will."

"Fine. Win it then. In your dreams."

--

This is when Ryoma and Keigo are the same age and when they are in Hyotei middle school AU. Just In case anyone forgot.

I want to share my fics with only a limited people as possible, so this might not be ended up posted on or anywhere else, foe that matter. Because this IS rated hardcore and M, and also because….well. For a few reasons.

Along with the one-shot porn, if anyone want to read these two, leave me your e-mail address in the reviews or sent it to me at 

Or maybe I will post it, but not for a long while yet.

So. I'll try to post up regularly. I hope. :D


	17. 17: Twisted

They tried to change once

They tried to change once. Gentle hands, caressing each other gently as if the other might break, light kisses on the cheek, a secret smile here and there, and the promises of a forever.

In the end, nothing worked out (it shouldn't have, they never expected it to); too much history between them, he would have liked to think, but in the end, it was about their history, in some aspect, but mostly it was the fact both of them weren't like _that._

It didn't matter about the cause. All it resulted was shouting and snarling, the words _mine_ and _yours_ in heated whispers, and the walls to hold him into place while they were fucking.

"He was looking at you!"

"Looking at me, you asshole._ Looking_. He wasn't about to--"

"Touch you? No, he wouldn't have dared--"

"With you acting like a bastard, I got that. Why are you such a fucking hycro--"

"You're the one who acts as if--"

And it would have gone on, until one of them was frustrated enough to kiss or maybe strangle the other, it didn't matter which, it always ended in the bed (or mostly on the floor and _then_ the bed). Mostly there was too many sounds, his screaming, his whimpering, their moaning, mixed with names, names that had no meaning.

He never liked those eyes. Ocean-blue eyes, and then suddenly it turned black one day.

Atobe (Keigo, his mind never allowed him to say that name, it sounded too intimate for them) watches him put on the discarded pants after another round of sex, and he doesn't look back. He shifts and stands up to look for his shirt.

"You could stay." A mild suggestion, something that should had sounded normal (but to him it only sounded hollow). He ignores that statement. He finds his shirt besides the bathroom door. The mirror is cracked.

He doesn't say good-bye, and Atobe stays silent after that.

He would come back next week (or maybe Atobe would call him, either way), and he doesn't know how he could keep this up.


	18. 18: Porn

Thought that the last one was too angst, so here is this …er…fic

Thought that the last one was too angst, so here is this …er…fic. That's….weird.

"You know, I think I liked you better when we weren't so intimate with each other."

Ryoma doesn't ask why Atobe suddenly brings this up. He knows why. "Oh?"

"I think I liked you better when I didn't know you watched porn for your hobbies. With the speakerphone on. While I am trying to do my homework."

Ryoma hides a smirk at this, but he doesn't turn down the volume either. "And I think I never really liked you."

"Tough." Atobe's voice sounds irritated, as if he knows Ryoma was turning on the sounds louder only to annoy him. Of course he did. Even Atobe wasn't that stupid. "Just try to cover the view of that girl's breasts. She looks hideous."

"It's a sexy concept."

"She looks like a whore."

"Then she's doing her job with your majesty's approval."

Here Atobe scowls and Ryoma smirks as he turns his chair to face Atobe. "What? You don't have to look here. Just concentrate on the paper in front of you," he suggests innocently, only he knows it was failing with his smirk adorning his face.

"I'm, trying," Atobe grits out," only that it's hard when there is this girl screaming on the speaker. Turn it down."

"No." And Ryoma turns his attention back to the video clip where the man was thrashing into the girl violently. Urgh. Poor girl.

A minute goes by peacefully.

"You can't even see his face." Atobe's voice is hovering in his ear and soon enough Atobe is grabbing his own chair and sitting next to him, looking at the film in disgust. "Why are you even watching this?"

"For the girl?," he offers mildly, training his eyes to not tear off form the scene. "That's why most people watch porn, Keigo."

"You're gay."

"I'm bi. You're the one who's gay." The glare Atobe sent his way was ignored.

"I'm not gay."

"Good. Maybe you could marvel how breasts could bounce while fucking then."

"There is nothing to marvel at. It's just…."

"Breasts?"

"Yes."

"See? Gay,gay,gay." Ryoma pokes him with the last comment. Atobe grabs his hand to prevent withdraw.

"I think I could have tolerated you more when you were this antisocial brat who was only interested in tennis."

"I still am. Who said I wasn't?"

"You're watching this."

"Who said I was enjoying it?"

"You enjoy sex," Atobe scoffs, his eyes not even pretending to be engrossed in the film like Ryoma was. "You indicated that well enough last night."

Now it is Ryoma's turn to jerk his head to Atobe and glare. "Did not."

Atobe's annoyed face dissolves as he smirks. "Oh? Care to prove it?"

"You have homework." And Ryoma tries to yank his hand free form Atobe's grasp, but Atobe holds on tightly. "And I have this porn to finish watching."

"And after which you'll do something to annoy me more, I'm sure." Atobe leans toward him, lips at a close enough distance to kiss. Ryoma doesn't. "I think I'll stick with you doing something that's not annoying and beneficial for me."

Ryoma rolls his eyes but he doesn't push back when Atobe engages him into a kiss that seems far more real than what they were doing in the porn. More erotic, too.

The kiss lasts for a minute or more, just as the man in the clip is reaching his climax and pouring semen on the girl's face. Atobe tears away form Ryoma's lips and sneers. "Disgusting."

Ryoma can't help it this time; he has to laugh. He makes Atobe face him again while he nuzzles his cheek. "That's what he's supposed to do," he tells Atobe almost sweetly. He knows Atobe is rolling his eyes, although he couldn't see it right now.

"Are you suggesting that I do the same to you?," Atobe ventures sarcastically.

It doesn't make him stop laughing, but it does make him kiss Atobe again. Atobe obliges easily, his fingers sliding between his black locks, and rubbing his scalp gently. He purrs a little into the kiss and Atobe chuckles when they break apart for air. "So easy to please," he drawls out, but he still places little kisses along his jaw line.

"Shut up." Ryoma pokes him again, but lightly. He couldn't concentrate when Atobe was doing that.

The film was over by the time when they were finished making out, but really, he wasn't about to complain. Not when he was doing something much more interesting than watching a girl being fucked by a faceless man.

--

Yes, they watch porn and act on it. There's too hot for each other to be turned on by porn anyway ( shrugs)

Thanks to this, now this is officially rated M. Yay.


	19. 19: Rinko

You give birth to him on Christmas Eve

You give birth to him on Christmas Eve. A blessing by God, but you don't take heed of that.

He has his father's eyes and your lips. His hair is the color of a thousand seas where stories are untold, a deep black green streak. His father takes one look at him and breaks into a grin so big you only see the smile.

"Ryoma," you whisper into your son's ear, and you hold him tight, your beautiful boy, and his face resolves that into an angel.

* * *

He holds a racket at the age of four.

Your husband stands out in the grass, a warm breeze falling across your hair and you tilt your head back to look at the moon. Your husband throws another ball to the boy and he struggles to reach it, to touch it, and he flops back down on the ground. You sigh and want your husband to stop tormenting the child, but your son stands up once again, and the fire hasn't gone out from his eyes.

Nanjiroh laughs a soft laugh and you meet your eyes up to your husband. "He's a player yet," he says, definite pride in his voice, and you have to agree. The wind is warm today, and the night seems so full of promises.

Your son's eyes are the color of hazel. You like to think of it as gold.

* * *

Your son is a confusing one.

His body was built up to be yours; a slender build, with a touch of delicacy you don't see in Nanjiroh, and he has your lips. He doesn't smile often, and he is too quiet. He never cries and he never laughs; only his eyes betray his thoughts and even then you can't really read him well. Only by his reports you see your son as the young man he will grow up to be ('a boy who is too quiet, unlike other boys, but he still attracts a lot of people; not an unlikable boy, but he should show a little more respect; he can play a pretty mean game of tennis!') but you can't see beyond.

He doesn't show any interest to girls. When his father whines at how he need to find himself a girl, your son slams his bowl down and dash outside. You find him later hitting as many balls as possible out in the rain.

Your beautiful son. Your son.

He does his chores. He plays tennis. He studies. He plays tennis.

Your son is obsessed to playing by the rules. The only time he gets into a fight is when one of the players in his tennis club taunts him to be a daddy's boy. You mend the scratches on his face and you want to think of it as a boy thing, a procedure kids need to face when they grow up. Your son doesn't cry. You don't scold him. He is sullen and quiet, but he still attracts many boys and quite a few number of girls, where he breaks all of their young hearts. Your husband laughs it off, but you can't help but be bothered by it all. You study your son and you don't know. You just don't know.

Then you think it is time for him to have a pet, and you buy him a cat, a furry grey-like creature, peering through the pet shop one day.

* * *

When you give him his pet, that is the first time his eyes turn wide, and he hold the creature tenderly. His eyes are truly golden, and he looks up at you and whispers, "Is it for me?" and your heart bursts of something unfamiliar and you cannot cry.

"Yes," you whisper back to him. "It is."

He snuggles the creature and he smiles for the first time. He is six years old.

Your son names the cat Karupin.

Your husband is strangely silent for the rest of the day, and as you are about to fall asleep, your husband whispers, "He smiles just like you." And you wonder why it sounds so sad.

You want your son to smile more.

* * *

Your son wins every tennis game he plays with ease and without passion. He is like a mini Nanjiroh, and the newspapers tell you no less. Your son is withdrawn and your husband sometimes has this far away look on his face. You husband always crushes your boy. Your boy doesn't cry. He has a best friend named Karupin. He wins everything but his heart isn't in it. Your son doesn't smile. And he plays tennis.

One day, when your son wins his fourth tournament of the year and the newspapers declare him Nanjiroh, you can't take it anymore. You tell your husband, "We're going to Japan." And you will hear nothing more.

Your son is twelve. He glances up form his rice and asks if it'll be any different.

"Different as in what?"

"Do I have to play tennis?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

Your son stays silent and mutters later he still had his old man to beat. You smile a bitter smile at that and don't ask the after.

* * *

He comes home one day and he stays in his room all day long. He has an unreadable expression on his face and he doesn't even take notice of Karupin. You ask him what's wrong and you are met with a blank look. You learn that he had a match with his captain and nothing more. You hear the name Tezuka and you later find out that he is suppose to be the best in all of junior high. You know your son lost, but to exactly what, you don't know.

Your son seems to have a light fire burning after that. He smirks more. He plays harder and he doesn't ignore his father as much as he used to. He seems alive for the first time you birthed him, and you want to say that he was growing up, finally, but you really know your son has grown up a long time ago.

While you are washing the dishes your son stands in the kitchen and he says, "Japan isn't all that bad."

What you hear is _I think I'm starting to like tennis._

You smile and you think your son is smiling too. You feel happier than the day you birthed him.

* * *

Your son had beaten a boy named Atobe Keigo. You listened on the radio for the results, and you have to smile as the cheers of you son's team cover your ears. Yet when your son sits down on the dinner table, you ask him about the game and he simply says," I lost."

"What do you mean, boy?" Your husband yelps and tries to swat him, but you prevent that with a glare. "You won 7 games to 6!"

"I lost," he says and will not say nothing more. The silence resumes after that.

You grow curious about this boy. Atobe. You heard the name Atobe, but there was no Atobe Keigo. You look him up some more and you find he attends Hyotei Gakuen. He is in his last year of middle school. Atobe Keigo.

You decide to take a look.

* * *

"Atobe. Someone's here for you."

Such a huge school. Somewhere that all posh and rich kids went, the reason you and Nanjiroh didn't send your son to this particular school. Money doesn't make you rich, talents do, and so do other things in the world. You take a glance at this boy and you are taken aback at his seriousness. His face is covered by darkness and his beauty is well kept. He reminds you of something, but you forget too soon just as you think you might remember.

"Yes? Is there anything I can do for you?"

You hesitate. What you are about to do is going to make your son hate you. Your beautiful son, his face shining in the sunlight, yet somewhere he cannot reach. Your son's strange beauty, golden eyes where they illuminated the moon. His white face so unreadable. His lips always curved into a smirk that was too evil and too thin. Your beautiful dead son. Yet there was never any choice for you; your son needed you.

"Would you have a moment?"

* * *

You sit across from Atobe in a posh coffee shop where the waiters look serious and where a cup of water is the same price as wine. You order for the drinks and you pay the check. Atobe looks at you, his face looking slightly amused but more of curiosity. You look back at him unflinchingly.

"You still haven't introduced yourself, ma'am. " Such polite tones. Such irony. Manners that were well brought but with no use.

"Echizen Rinko." Your name sounds firm to your ears.

Atobe's face turns rigid after that, but he manages to utter out, "Echizen's mother."

You do not reply. You merely say what you came by to say and nothing more. "Play a game with my son."

Tezuka made your son alive and Atobe killed him back.

* * *

Atobe comes over for dinner. Your son looks cold, taking one look at his surrounding and looking at you. Atobe ignores him and you do not try to explain. Your son runs past his father and the door slams. Karupin mewls, and all is quiet.

Nanjiroh looks bewildered. "Did he just kill his cat?"

"No, he took him out."

Atobe stands up from the table. "I'll go look for him."

You know what is going to happen somewhat. This was the story you have chosen and now you are the director. Yet the sick feeling inside you doesn't go away. You turn to the sink and let the water run with the dishes unwashed.

"He's growing up," Nanjiroh says, and you press down a sob.

* * *

An hour later they are back and your son's lips are bruised. He looked as if he was beaten up in the face but you know better and so does Nanjiroh, the way his eyebrows are raised to full length. Your son's shirt's first button is undone and there are red bites along his throat. Your son still has his unreadable expression but now it isn't so cold anymore. Atobe looks expressionless than ever, but this was to be expected. He was brought up to hide his inner feelings.

You prepare dinner and Atobe sits back down. This time your son doesn't say anything about it, but he does chance up a glance at you. You ignore it. Your son would understand it in due time.

You see how their hands brush beneath the table. You step on Nanjiroh's foot from him making a lewd remark and he obeys upon it. The dinner is quiet but it is not strained. Later you will thank Atobe for coming over here and Atobe will accept the gratitude in his usual coolness, and he would also step into unfamiliar territory to thank you. For what he would not say, but you know. These things mothers know by instinct.

The Atobe boy is rich but he is not stupid. Nanjiroh doesn't scoff at the boy's well dressed clothes and Atobe comments the food is delicious. You want to know the woman who raised this person who grew up to become a King.

The Ice King. That was what all the newsletters said. The boy who had the brightest future in Japan.

* * *

After dinner you trod softly to the yard and you hide behind the trees, Atobe is standing on the porch and his right hand is leaving a trail on your son's cheek. Your son's skin is white from the moon's light and his back is turned to you.

They are in their own world together and you do not have the ticket to board on that ship those two created. You are the one who must push the ship into the sky and never look back.

"You're not Tezuka." Atobe's voice is soft, but the wind carries the message for you and you remember the lines you said to your son long ago, _you are not Nanjiroh._

Your son scoffed at you back then but now he is silent.

Atobe leans toward your son. Your son meets him halfway.

You turn your back to them and you do not see them kiss and the way your son's head tilts at the moonlight's touch. You do not know all this, but you lived long enough to guess.

* * *

"Mom," your son would say later, his head propped on the table and his black green hair, the hair that glistened in the sunlight like the deepest sea ocean, ruffled up to the touch, "Why?"

You only have one answer for this, and you hope your son would understand one day. "Because you are my son." My beautiful boy.

No matter what you will love him and you would go to hell for him. Because he is the creator of what you bore and he is the happiness of your life. Because he is your son. There are times when the world demanded a complicated logic for the happenings surrounding you. This was not one of those times.


	20. 20: Facts

15 facts about Echizen Ryoma you would have never known.

1. It wasn't as if he loved Ponta and he couldn't live without it; it was just easy to open and nice to drink, in reach and one day it became a habit. A world without Ponta was imaginable, it just wasn't desirable.

He like the smell of grapes and soda mixed together. A popping noise and the tingly scent that drifted on a warm summer day; that was about it.

2. He like tennis well enough. Yet he thought if it wasn't for his father who made him hold a racket since the age of four, he didn't think he would be playing right now. His purpose was to shove down arrogant gits who were too loud, and it didn't have to be tennis per sec. He just plays because he isn't good at anything else in particular.

3. He still likes the sound of the ball thwacking and the sweaty handshakes that comes afterwards. It makes him feel alive.

4. Karupin was altogether a different matter. Karupin was his first friend and his love against the rest of the world. He told his cat a little too much about himself; even for the sake of his reputation, Karupin must not die soon.

5. When he held the razor up front to shave off Atobe's hair, his hands shook not of excitement but of doubt; was it right to push the King so down low to the ground?

6. He shaved it all off anyway; Atobe was an arrogant git, and he hated those people above all else.

7. It annoyed him to no end that Atobe sometimes saw him as Tezuka, the way his eyes traveled over to his hair and looked surprised it wasn't brown and his eyes which bore no glasses.

8. So he usually gets his revenge by referring to Tezuka as _Buchou_ nonstop. At least it makes Atobe's eyes grow cold.

9. When he first uses the name _Keigo_, Atobe's eyes grow wide and he calls home to tell his father he's staying over at a friend's house. He can't walk properly for a week.

10. When Atobe calls him _Ryoma_ for the first time, his response isn't as drastic. He just shrugs as if to say _about time._

11. He hates rich kids who flaunter their money up his nose; he has money and he has them fine. It was a matter of not wanting to show off.

12. He doesn't talk to Atobe for a week when Atobe proposes a world trip tour for his birthday; in the end they settle to go to Paris. He always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower.

13. He's not a brat per sec; it was about being a brat to the people he found annoying. He could be mature if he wanted to.

14. He'd rather not, though. Watching Keigo's eyes roll was far better.

15. He likes Tezuka well enough; he thought Fuji was creepy enough as he was. Keigo, he doesn't really know yet, but at least it was better than him being a total bastard.

(He thinks he could deal with Karupin's death if Keigo was with him.)

* * *

15 facts about Atobe Keigo you never wished to know.

1. When he was about to enter school for the very first time, his mother told him he was going to rule over the world someday, and he took those words by heart.

2. He wondered why people called him self-absorbed and impossible if they were going to follow him eventually.

3. It wasn't as if he even was a narcissist; he had eyes for his enemies and friends before he had eyes for himself. He was the one who created the Silver Pair after all.

4. Besides, it wasn't as if he needed to look at himself to look for his greatness.

5. Then along came Echizen Ryoma and he set his world on burning fire and smirked about it.

6. He thought about ruining Echizen's life once but by then he fell in too deep to actually plan it into perfection.

7. He didn't forget the way Echizen's eyes turned cold when he sneered he was this imitation of his captain. Echizen didn't speak to him for almost a month and even after it never was quite the same.

8. With everyone else he could read them up to a certain extent but his Insight is always useless when it comes to that brat.

9. Maybe if he said his name enough Echizen might magically disappear and he could go on living a normal life.

10. Yet he nearly runs to the airport the moment he finds out Echizen just landed in Japan. Echizen catches his eye and smirks for no reason at all and he returns it.

11. He had the ability to make people like him and respect him, but Echizen scoffs at him more than ever.

12. He hates the taste of Ponta; he has to put up with it whenever they kiss, which was a lot. He swore to himself that one day he was going to eliminate the existence of Ponta altogether.

13. Echizen loves Karupin and this he understands. What he doesn't understand is how his own Persian cat likes Echizen far better than him.

14. Echizen hates luxuries but he could afford them. When he saw how much was in Echizen's bank account he had to ask why Echizen chose to live like a peasant. He never understood Echizen's logic of the world but he puts up with it. He still drags Echizen out of the country once in a while.

15. He doesn't say _I love you_ to the boy, because it was going to break the moment the words hung in the air. He prefers silence. So he lifts a finger to touch the boy's cheek and says it with his eyes.

(16) Echizen ignores the fragile line between them and says it anyway.


	21. 21: Kiss

"Hey, Atobe! Atobe!"

His breath caught in the wind as Keigo looked at him, heedless of the shouts of his teammates from somewhere out the alleyway. He tried to clench his fists, only they were frozen from the cold. He should have brought his gloves.

"ATOBE!!! Where the fuck ARE you?!"

He tried opening his mouth next. "Your teammates," he tried to say, but it came out in a whisper, maybe because his throat had done so dry. Another gust of wind blew around him; he shivered as he tore his gaze away from the other boy. "Your teammates are going to find us."

Keigo stood still, his figure composed and sure (more to do with the fact that he wore a scarf and gloves), and Ryoma chanced a look at him again; those calm blue eyes that started to soften around the edges. He doesn't look away this time.

A hand reaches out to finger his hair, partly hidden by his cap. Keigo trails his fingers up the path to where his cap nested, and he takes it off. Ryoma lets him, even though it's cold and his hair might freeze by the time they get this thing done.

Keigo leans in. Thos eyes don't close as they hover around him; they look too bright, too far away to touch. The kiss is just a brush on the lips, a small touch that makes him grow warm. He doesn't close his eyes either.

When it seems as if it would end, Ryoma reaches out to hold Keigo's hair and kisses him again. His hair is soft; Ryoma hangs on to it, as he tries to taste something that he has yet to know. His body automatically molds in closer to the older boy; Keigo obliges him by wrapping an arm around his waist. His cap falls to the ground.

Their lips part. His mouth is hot.

Then he forgets how much time has passed; they kiss again and again, and his mouth soon makes a muffling sound that might have been a moan had it not been covered by Keigo's mouth. He drowns out the sounds of the outside world around him.

It was another cold winter, in an alleyway.


	22. 22: Momoshiro

Keigo sees him crouching in the shadows, along with Echizen's other insane members of the team, but he isn't about to point that out, not when Echizen was pressed against him with their tongues entangled up together. Echizen makes a small sound; his hands fisted in Keigo's hair, and makes a small laughing noise as Keigo drops small dry kisses along his cheekbone. He sees those bushes rustle, but he knows Echizen won't hear, not when he's murmuring nonsense words into the younger boy's ears. Anything to block out those sounds, those eyes that were always watching Echizen. _His_ Echizen.

He doesn't need to see those eyes grow hard under those leaves, because he knows too well to.

0

0

"You obviously need to grow some basic skills in seducing," he tells Momoshiro one day, being careful not to look at him directly, watching Echizen against a match with Oshitari. Normally he wouldn't talk to this loud-mouthed junior, who still was annoying as ever even though all of them were in high school, but certain circumstances like these were too thoughtful to pass.

He knows the other boy was looking at him, obviously trying to maintain a puzzled look.

"What?"

He doesn't see the point in walking around the long way. "Echizen," he replied, seeing that Oshitari was losing badly, not that he really expected otherwise. "I was wondering when you'd make a move."

A small muffled gawking sound is made and Keigo has the dignity not to roll his eyes. He hopes that for this conversation's sake Oshitari would hold off for a bit longer, and he does, going into tiebreak.

"I—What?!"

Oh yes, nonchalance. The oldest trick in the book.

"You should also try to shape up your acting skills as well. Clearly they would see their light in these kinds of situations."

Silence is heard after that, and he knows those eyes would have widened from shock and then to anger, and he wants to see them right now, so he turns to the other boy. His mouth curves up slightly. "Did you think I wouldn't know?"

Momoshiro's mouth is pressed up tightly, his eyes uncertain but fierce, but a moment later he tries to laugh it off. "I have no idea what you're talking about Atobe-san," he says, and his grin is wide as ever a moment later. "I'm not one of Echizen's crazy fan girls."

Keigo doesn't let the smirk fall off, but he also doesn't resume the conversation.

Echizen was coming towards him, a raised eyebrow in check as he surveys his best friend and his boyfriend in closer distance than usual. "Bonding up, are we?" he ventures sarcastically, more so because he heard too much insults about each other from both sides.

"More or less," Keigo amends, and he grabs Echizen's wrist to pull him for a kiss. Normally he wouldn't, not in public, but there exactly wasn't a crowd here, only Momoshiro, and frankly, he wanted to see what he would get from this. He grasps the greenish black hair wet after the match and those gold eyes widen in shock before he presses his lips against the other.

"What the—" Echizen goes red and he pushes back a moment later, his eyes averting to Momoshiro and then to him, hissing, "Keigo—"

Momoshiro laughs a strained laugh. "It's okay Echizen," he teases, ruffling up the boy's hair, determined not to look at Keigo, "It's not like I never seen you two kissing before."

_I hate you_, Echizen mouths to him, but it's done without the malice, so Keigo tilts his head and brushes his hand on the boy's wrist when Momoshiro isn't looking.

This one, Momoshiro didn't need to know.

0

0

0

"You don't seem to like him very much," Echizen observes, after the training with both teams respectfully has ended, and they all were currently lounging in their own rooms enjoying a good night's sleep. Echizen was sprawled on Keigo's bed, watching him dry his hair. He catches his eyes through the mirror. "Momo-senpai, I mean," he elaborates.

An understatement, he wants to say, but all he does is shrug, not wanting to let the conversation head off to where he knows it'll head off.

Echizen sighs and mutters an insult that wasn't for his ears to hear, getting under the covers and closing his eyes. He sees through the reflection in the mirror and can't help but smile.

0

0

0

Momoshiro, Keigo thinks, likes Echizen but is too scared to admit it. Or maybe he was one of those people who liked to love with their eyes only, following the shadows of something that would never be theirs. He was willing to doubt the latter, even for the sake of Momoshiro's pride, but he sees those eyes follow Echizen around all the time, the way they linger when Echizen is playing a match, when he laughs, when he laughs with Keigo. Yet Momoshiro never confronts him, not even in the most desperate moments, not even when he could have had the opportunity to have the boy. Not in their junior high years, when Keigo was not even close to having him, and not even now, when it was too late.

No, Keigo doesn't hate the boy, but he doesn't pity him either.

He traces Echizen's sleeping form with his eyes, and caresses his cheek with his fingers. Echizen makes a small humming sound as he scoots closer to the warmth those fingers might lead him, his head tucked under Keigo's shoulder, his breath an even tone. He wonders what Echizen would say when he knows about Momoshiro's secret desire for him.


	23. 23:Coming Out

In which everyone keeps interrupting whenever they try to make out. And I mean all the inappropriate people. And only Ryoma seems to care of their reputation.

Oh erm, and yes. Keigo is hot for Ryoma-kun. Except he still seduces in the cool way.

I think I need to make up for all the angsting I have done to both of them by giving them good doses of kissing and more kissing till everyone gets sick at the sight of two of them kissing. Which is not really likely.

Next one is also semi-angst, so enjoy while you can :D

Coming Out.

Sanada saw them making out after a match (He knew they had a match because he had been there watching). They were in the process of kissing in different angles and with Atobe trying to eat out Echizen's face alive. He knew that it was suppose to be private and it was this intimate moment where he wasn't suppose to interrupt, but he couldn't help but just …stare. And grow hot. And get aroused himself, which was not supposed to happen, ever. In the end, he just stood wide-gaped at them.

Echizen noticed him first. And he had the decency to tear his mouth apart from Atobe's and hiss out , "Fuck," with a vengeance Sanada never heard. And he was trying to push Atobe to prevent the Hyotei captain from unbuttoning his shirt, without much success. "Fuck, Keigo, stop. Stop."

"Ahn?" He could hear Atobe being mildly irritated, if his determination to press the younger boy against the wall had anything to do with it, "Try telling me that before we--" then he saw Sanada as well, and he froze. Then glared. "Sanada." At least he let go of Echizen's shirt. Sanada saw what looked like a blush on Echizen's face. He looked a tad but red anyway. Atobe just looked irritated.

"Your coach is looking for you." Sanada hurried up with the lamest excuse he could think of but it was still an excuse, and it would have to work. Atobe sneered, but he still walked towards the training camp grounds (but not before giving Echizen a brush of a hand, which Sanada wouldn't have noticed in normal circumstances). Sanada fled the scene as quickly as Atobe had gone. He needed some time in the bathroom.

0

0

"Atobe is raping Echizen," is what Sanada informed Yanagi at dinner, in hushed tones, since it would not do for anyone to hear. "Or they are in this abusive relationship, which is also raping."

"Really?" Yanagi raised an eyebrow. "I thought they were dating."

Kirihara spat out his cup of water.

0

0

"Echizen! You got raped?!"

Ouch. Sanada cringed inwardly as Echizen smacked Momoshiro hard and dragged him into a corner to clarify. Then Echizen's eyes turned into hard chips of ice and he strolled over to Atobe. Sanada thought it would be wise to flee now.

Unfortunately, Atobe's smooth tone of, "Sanada, a match," prevented him from doing just that, and he was forced to nod stiffly as he followed Atobe out for it was soon to be a sore in his muscles.

0

0

"You should have been gentler with him."

"Gentler, as in how?"

"Shoving him against the wall doesn't give me the impression that you were having this—"

"My,my , I didn't take you for such an exhibitionist, Sanada. Shouldn't you be worrying about—"

"We're too young for all this!," Sanada snapped, watching another ball of Atobe's landing on his side of the court. "You—we're all in high school! You--" here he pointed an accusing figure at Atobe, "take life with too much drama. Tennis doesn't need dramatic entrances. Winning does not require acting. Dating--" he drew in a heavy breath , but he still plunged on , "needs a step-by-step process in where we all--"

"Is this coming from your own failure of dating experiences, or is this out from something you learned out of class?" Atobe looked amused, as if his mocking smile had anything to do with it. "I think you're confusing us for back when you were in middle school, Sanada. After all, we are graduating this year from high school. Too young for what, hm?"

"Echizen—"

"I think I would know him better than you would." Atobe casually scored another point and glanced pointedly at Sanada's direction. "Do you have even have his best interests in mind?"

Sanada growled. "He's younger then you."

"As I thought. A pitiful excuse." Atobe raised an eyebrow and he curved up a smirk, although his earlier trace of amusement has been diminished. "I suggest you continue to pine for your captain instead of nosing into other love affairs you don't even know the story of."

"I—What?"

"So nice catching up," Atobe called behind his back, and Sanada had to wonder how in the world Atobe could have found out.

0

0

"Do you mind—ugh!"

Atobe licked the joint of Echizen's collarbone as the younger boy twisted against him, his face flushed and tears gathering up in his eyes, his mouth trying to cover up a moan and a snarl. One would have the impression that he was raping the boy, but he always liked to draw it out slow. Make his boyfriend suffer a bit more before they both came screaming.

Which was what he was doing right now. He ghosted his lips alongside Echizen and had the pleasure in nipping Echizen's open mouth, letting his tongue dive into those swollen lips and plundering his tongue inside his mouth. Echizen moaned against him, his hands fisting his hair tightly; his hips bucking up against him (he couldn't help but let out a groan at that); he was about to tell the boy to loosen his grip a bit when—

"Hey Atobe, the coach was looking for—WHAT THE FUCK!"

Atobe managed to suppress the urge to kill Mukahi.

0

0

"Wait, so I'm supposed to calm down when out captain is fucking the freshmen who failed to get us into the nationals?!"

"Frankly yes, speaking that—"

"Wait, they weren't fucking exactly, not outdoors, could they—"

"I never took Atobe for a machoist—"

"Oh, fuck, I DID NOT need to hear that!"

"Could we all calm down?"

"Calm DOWN? You think I can calm down when I—"

"When you look like an idiot, then yes."

"WHO THE HELL INVITED HIM INTO THIS ROOM ANYWAY?!"

Echizen threw an annoyed glance at Atobe as he swirled his glass of Ponta with his right hand. "I swear your teammate is stupider than you," he muttered, and Atobe barely refrained form rolling his eyes.

"AND I HEARD THAT!!!!!" Mukahi pointed an accusing finger at Echizen as he took another sip from his cup.

"Good," Echizen said sweetly, his eyes turning into another level of annoyance. "I was meaning for you to hear."

Mukahi stood speechless for a good minute his mouth agape. Atobe decided that smirking would set Mukahi into another temper, but he still curved up his lip.

Mukahi was fuming now; his hands were barely inches from grabbing Echizen, had it not been for Oshitari's warning.

"I don't think Atobe would like it if you strangled his boyfriend in front of him, Gakuto," he drawled, finding this all too amusing as he chanced Atobe a smirk of his own.

"Quite," Atobe agreed dryly, wondering when Mukahi would calm down so they could finally flee this scene. It was giving him a headache.

Echizen snickered and blew him a kiss when no one was looking. Atobe rolled his eyes this time.

0

0

"No," Echizen told him firmly, when he pushed the freshman towards the wall after dinner. "I would rather not let the entire high school tennis team population know that I'm dating an idiot."

Atobe narrowed his eyes at the last remark but shrugged it off, seeing that it happened on a daily basis and he would rather not waste his energy getting worked up about it.

"No one's here," he points out instead, hands already reaching out to grip the strays of Echizen's hair. He leans closer, seeing those lips scowl and those gold eyes light even in the darkness, and plants a dry kiss below his lips.

"If anyone sees I swear…." Echizen mutters, right before Atobe shuts him up with a real kiss this time, both hands coming to rest on the boy's hair and smoothing out the tangles. Echizen makes a small humming sound as he wraps his arms around Atobe's neck, and they stay like that for some time. They don't hear the bushes rustle.

Nor do they hear the small murmur of "Data…." With the clicking of a shutter.

0

0

0

Morning.

There was a rustle of the sheets accompanied with a small curse a moment later. A thwacking sound of a pillow could be heard a moment later.

"I hope for your sake that you did not just throw that pillow at me," a muffled voice sounded out from the covers. Ryoma glared at the said culprit who had the nerve—he tried to grab a second pillow for that—to actually….urgh. He scowled and tried to find his shirt Keigo had so graciously took off for him last night.

Ah, yes. The second pillow. He threw it harder for good measure.

_Thwack!_

Keigo threw off the covers at that, his blue-grey eyes lacking the energy to glare properly at the other boy. "I told you not to throw—"

He stopped when he saw Ryoma's full length glare clearly showing his irritation. He quickly masked indifference when he saw all the bandages plastered around Ryoma's neck.

Instead he decided to settle for a casual remark of "I think you missed a mark.", and had the decency to dodge when Ryoma tried to strangle him. Literally.

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"Why is Atobe-san avoiding you?" Momoshiro asked over lunch, his mouth stuffed full of bread and ham and god knew what else.

"Because he seems to be using his brains for once," Ryoma muttered, determined to not look at Keigo and all his glorious insanity. The bandages annoyed him, the way they clung on to him tightly; it made him lose his concentration during tennis. He made a mental note to leave the same amount of marks on Keigo next time, only that he knew the other boy wouldn't try to cover it up, leaving everyone else to see the red bruises.

"He seems to be looking this way," Fuji observed, his smile never wavering, "Maybe you should wave him hello."

Ryoma rolled his eyes and refused to comment.

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"You know, the reason why we're here in this training camp is to play tennis."

"That seems to be the point, yes." A swift lick across his neck was followed after.

Echizen gritted his teeth. "I'm so glad you seem to know the fucking point when—muumph!"

"You," Atobe breathed between their kisses, "Seem to talk too much."

Echizen couldn't make any sounds of protests after that.

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"Are you sure we wouldn't get discovered here?"

"I think Atobe buchou already knows we're here."

"Then why ARE we here? We should get the hell out!"

"Patience, Gakuto. I think our dear Kei-chan seems to be more occupied with the things at hand."

"Don't call him that, Yuushi. It sounds too….."

"Girlish?"

"Oh shut up. Don't talk about girls in front of me when two boys are kissing in front of us."

"And I think Echizen looked this way."

"He did about two times now."

"And he's looking murderous."

"….And Atobe isn't letting go."

"Which is why we're still here."

"Wouldn't Echizen faint from the lack of oxygen?"

"Wait, they are _not_ taking their clothes off here."

"Actually, Echizen wouldn't. Atobe might though."

"Now would be a good time to run."

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This fic just wouldn't END. Hyotei madness seemed to be a good place to end it off.

Preview of next fic:

He sometimes looks at Atobe and wonders if he sees hate in those eyes.

It's hard to catch Atobe off guard. Usually Atobe has this thin veil clouding his face, something that Atobe sealed to the point of non-existence but still there, that he wonders why Atobe needs it in the first place. Was there anything to hide?

Then one day he casts a look at Atobe and then at Echizen and then he knows.

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"You seem to hate the boy," he observes to Atobe one day, pretending that he carries off the statement as a passing. Atobe stops buttoning his shirt for a spilt second, then resumes on as if Oshitari hadn't spoken.

"Who?" Atobe's voice is mild; he almost believes the nonchalant tone Atobe offers to him.

He smirks instead and leans against the clubhouse wall. "Echizen."

Those hands do stop this time, and Atobe turns to face him. Atobe raises an eyebrow. "Echizen," he repeats, and Oshitari can see, again with the pretending. "Why should I hate him?"

He tilts his head to one side and shrug. He has been waiting for this conversation to be taking place for some time; he knew Atobe would come out like this, it was his job to twist it the right way.


	24. 24: Oshitari

Sorry for the infinitely long hiatus!!! Real life really hates me, lo I bemoan. To make up for it I've make some postings of my fics at my profile, so go take a look! :D

* On another note, I'd also like to post up the long shot fics I've been mentioning—Hyotei!Ryoma AU and Gender!bending fic AU Ryoma as well. I finished them last year but I'm not very satisfied with them, so I'll post them up as soon as I do the finishing touches ^^;; I've gotten a lot of request for the fic by e-mail than I expected, so I'll just go ahead and post them.

Onto the story then!!!!

*Sometimes I think Oshitari would tease Keigo mercilessly about how the hell he managed to date a freshman whom he obviously hated before. Then there are times when I see Oshitari musing his deep genius musings that turn into crappy angst. Such is the story below.

Disclaimer: Nothing is owned, because unfortunately, Tenipuri would turn into a big heap of angst and snark with only Hyotei and Ryoma in it if it was up to me.

Thank you for the immediate and wonderful reviews for the last fic :D They made my day!

***

He sees them and predicts destruction.

It's funny how Yuushi's mind wanders to his captain and the Seigaku brat and automatically predicts disaster. He's proud to admit that he wasn't one of those people who jump to conclusions, but he deemed that this conclusion was a one well worth making, when he sees them together, and he sees the thinly veiled hatred that was twisted inside Echizen's eyes and the laughter, the smirk.

It was unhealthy, but he would be damned to point this out.

Echizen was certainly dangerous, for one. He hasn't yet to see a first year so wild, not even with Atobe's case; there was a insanity, true, the laughter which Yuushi later realized as satisfaction, but behind that insanity there was a mind that was clever enough to lead a full tennis team. Behind his laughter and arrogance there was, Yuushi had to admit, a capacity to rule over a bunch of hyper teammates he called his own.

But Echizen.

No, that boy was different. He was wild. Those eyes that Atobe was in no doubt infuriated by were fire itself; they held too many things for one person to read, let alone handle. Those eyes lit up too much, a causal smirk and a tossing challenge, a fleet of the air, a brush of the wind. Echizen was unpredictable—he came by one day and won the Nationals Seigaku had no chance of getting before and disappeared again to his homeland only to return again. He didn't stay to claim his leadership like Atobe would have done, no—he let it pass on to his seniors, and he was content with defeating Sanada, Atobe, Yukimura. Perhaps even Tezuka. Atobe seemed to like such unpredictability. Yuushi would have called him a machoist. Atobe knew how to control a crowd. Echizen knew how to destroy one. Atobe knew things that Echizen knew how to bring down. Echizen liked to taunt Atobe of the things he could never have and destroy the things Atobe succeeds in getting.

Then he sees something else entirely.

Funnily enough it came to his mind in the middle of something he shouldn't have seen. Or rather, something that Atobe really shouldn't have done in a tennis locker room where anyone could burst in at any moment. But he was the captain and Yuushi happened to have left his tennis bag in his locker and ended up crouched very uncomfortably under one of the benches while Echizen screamed.

Echizen is beautiful when he's being fucked. Yuushi noted this as he would like a simple fact—he's seen another unfortunate session of sex with Shishido and Ootori that he does _not_ wish to remember—and he brings this up and compares that particular incident with this one. The one held right before his eyes.

Echizen is lithe and short and fair skinned with dark hair covering his small face and his face is pale and his mouth is open and bruised, maybe from all the kissing that wouldn't stop between them. His thin arms that look awkward are held in a vice grip against Atobe's own fair skin, and his torso is bare and so very surreal.

Shishido and Ootori. That time had been a passionate blush between lovers, a whisper of _We can__'__t do this here_ and a snicker and maybe laughter. It was sickening to see, but Yuushi was happy enough for them, and he had teased Shishido for months afterwards. There was love there. Or maybe a strong liking, if high schoolers were too young to know what love was. But this. This before his eyes.

Echizen was screaming and he was laughing. It wasn't a laugh that spoke of amusement—but, oh it was amusement all right—sick, sick amusement, and a choke of _faster_ and _Keigo_ or maybe another scream. He was being slammed onto the floor again and again, and Atobe wasn't being gentle like how Ootori had been or how Shishido had been. Yuushi couldn't see Atobe's face. But Echizen didn't seem to mind; he only gripped Atobe's arms tighter and rasped out more commands that Atobe followed. That torso gleamed with sweat, bruised with kisses, and merged into one.

Echizen whispered something out. Yuushi held his breath. His musing change from here on.

Perhaps Echizen wanted destruction and Atobe was willing to oblige him.

_Destroy me. _It was a command that haunted Yuushi for months afterwards.

***

Another time he has it completely fucked up.

Their relationship is complicated, he contends to himself, and a slight misunderstanding would be acceptable.

"You seem to hate the boy," he observes to Atobe one day, pretending that he carries off the statement as a passing. Atobe stops buttoning his shirt for a spilt second, then resumes on as if Yuushi hadn't spoken.

"Who?" Atobe's voice is mild; he almost believes the nonchalant tone Atobe offers to him.

He smirks instead and leans against the clubhouse wall. "Echizen."

Those hands do stop this time, and Atobe turns to face him. Atobe raises an eyebrow. "Echizen," he repeats, and Yuushi can see, again with the pretending. "Why should I hate him?"

He tilts his head to one side and shrug. He has been waiting for this conversation to be taking place for some time; he knew Atobe would come out like this, it was his job to twist it the right way.

But he lets it drop. More because it wasn't any of his business. He just shrugs and drawls out Echizen would be waiting for him, and Atobe doesn't press.

And the story should end there. It really should. But it doesn't, and what Yuushi next sees is Echzien suddenly disappearing like the wind the brat seems to be and leaving whatever god knows behind. Atobe is silent for months afterward.

No it wasn't hate. Then what was it?

***

He almost gets it, when he sees Atobe at a funeral.

The Atobe head of the family had died due to a car accident that was more of a shock than anything else—suddenly Keigo was to inherit a fortune and an empire that was too much for a man (a boy, Yuushi would have liked to say, but Atobe had long since outgrown the features of boyhood) of eighteen to handle. He was suddenly named one of the richest people on earth and the media was already proclaiming the estimates of the legacy of the Atobe family. To Keigo, though, it was losing a father. Yuushi knew this, and pressed his lips shut at the flashes heading his way.

There was rain. There shed no tears.

The entire Hyotei team was there, out of anything, more of respect than anything else for their captain. Atobe merely nodded at their presence and gave Yuushi a brief smile and Shishido gave Atobe a semi-awkward hug that was too out of place for any of them. But Atobe looked immune to it all, and they stood there, being drenched by rain, mourning a man they didn't even know but still mourning, because old habits die hard.

A black car drove past up the road and planted itself neatly on the curb. A person Yuushi did not expect to see got out.

Echizen.

Yuushi just stares as Echizen ignores all the cameras and the flashes. He must have become used to them, Yuushi thinks with a small trace of amusement, then Atobe sees him too and suddenly those eyes that had been dead grow wide and Echizen is still walking.

Why Yuushi felt the world had to stop there he didn't know. He felt that time should have stopped.

Echizen barely makes it in front of Atobe when Atobe grabs one of his arms and yanks them closer. The flashes grow faster, the rain pouring. Echizen is not smirking but looking solemn. He doesn't refuse the embrace. Yuushi sees Atobe burying his head against Echizen's shoulders. Echizen lets him. His arms slowly wraps around Atobe. He doesn't let go.

The cameras can't seem to stop clicking their damn shutters and Echzien looks like a ghost. It's a strange thing to note at a funeral, but Echizen was unreal. He always was. Did Atobe know this?

Yuushi thinks he might get it this time. There's nothing to understand between them.

***

It's mad. Destructive.

There's a certain path that was expected of him and Atobe. Not him to be specific but to Atobe, certainly. Echzien had a path to, something that Yuushi was unfamiliar with. Being a world famous tennis star, becoming rich, becoming media headlines. Becoming _something._

But the boy stays.

He sees it in Atobe's eyes as well. He knows it's destructive, it's unhealthy. And yet that idiot still wants something he so obviously shouldn't have, and he wasn't going to stop him. Yuushi shrugs and pours himself another glass of martini.

Sex, love, lust. It was a circle of things Yuushi was familiar with. He doubted if Atobe was.

But then again, Yuushi smiled, a grim one but still a smile, Atobe always had loved a challenge. Echizen could provide him that much, he was sure.

***

A/N: I am so getting flamed for this but who cares, Yuushi always was a philosophical bastard when he isn't thinking about love and sex. :D

This will be the end of my one-shot series. Not because I won't be posting any more one-shots, but because I think I'll find it more convenient to post out separate one-shots when I'll be starting two long series shortly. The Genderbending fic can be counted as a very long one-shot but the Hyotei fic? Man, I let my imagination run wild on that one.

Thank you for everyone who supported this series of one-shots!!!! :D


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